Jack and the Fangirls
by Talia
Summary: Jack desperately needs a new gi, and his search leads him across some unexpected paths; an obsessed fangirl, francophone bounty hunters, several bullets, a drag queen and the Saxon army among them. Written in the style of Delacorta.


CHAPTER 1

  
It was probably the most inhospitable-looking city so far. The tall dark buildings, all formed in that all-too-familiar Akuvian shape, were packed together so tightly it was almost hard to believe traffic could run between them. The place had been there long before Aku's time, and it still bore the telltale layout of a medieval town. Very few of the original buildings remained, but nevertheless it was still possible to transverse the city and come across the random gate fragment or stone house with stacked overhangs looking as if they were about to collapse, or the occasional Romanesque chapel that had long since been converted into office space.   
The Samurai did not like cities, particularly due to the quantity of people around. He tended to attract enough attention even when he wasn't wandering around wearing nothing but a fundoshi. But that was precisely why he needed to be there; he had managed to utterly destroy yet another gi, and if he stuck to the small villages it might take weeks before he found one with the necessary materials to construct such a thing. Another advantage to having his tailoring done in the city was the machines. There existed some that could sew twenty times faster than even the most skilled seamstress. A simple garment such as a gi could be constructed in less than an hour.   
Of course, money was an issue. At the moment he had none. Perhaps his fame would work to his advantage, for it was not unusual for his 'fans' to give him food and clothing gratis. Though it was considered rather unseemly for a Samurai to beg, the morals of his own world couldn't always apply to Aku's.   
The biggest problem he faced was the very good chance that the people at the tailor's would turn out to be bounty hunters more interested in turning him in for the reward than in giving him free clothes. The second problem was that he was not currently aware of where to even find a tailor's shop. He needed to ask for directions.   
Jack glanced around, looking for someone who appeared trustworthy. He was naturally inclined to prefer the company of humans to that of robots or aliens, and eliminating those races from the selection left him with five visible options: the first was a very old homeless man covered in ticks and feces, whether animal or human could not be determined. Next were two more-than-likely-gay men wearing black and white spandex bodysuits, clasping each other's hands as they sauntered down the road. On the other side of the street, a large, gruff man covered in battle scars and carrying no less than thirteen very large submachine guns stomped along in thigh-high Doc Martins.   
The final human to catch his gaze was a fairly attractive woman in her early thirties who was exiting a second hand store. She carried a large shopping bag in one hand and a neon pink vinyl purse in the other. The only thing about her that could be dangerous were the fumes from her hairspray. The Samurai decided that she would be the best one to approach. He hastened towards her.   
"Excuse me," he called, "Excuse me, madam."   
The woman turned in his direction. Instantly, her eyes widened. She gasped and, for a moment, fell silent.   
"I know who you are!" she exclaimed after ten seconds of wordless staring. "You're Samurai Jack!"   
Jack tried to repress his smile. "Please, not so loudly. Forgive me for disturbing you, but I was wondering if you might be able to direct me to the nearest tailor."   
The woman was actually bouncing up and down with excitement. "Oh wow! It's really you! I can't believe it!" All of a sudden it occurred to her just how ridiculous she must have looked. She planted her feet firmly on the concrete and tried to appear calm. "Sorry, sorry... okay... you said a tailor? Well, you don't find many of those around. But you're in luck! I do know one." She began ogling him up and down, too taken in by the sight before her to consider trying to be discreet about it. Jack frowned, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.   
"I guess you need one of those kimono things?" she asked brightly.   
"That is the case."   
"I'm parked right up the street. Do you want me to give you a ride there?"   
He bowed slightly. "I would be very grateful."   
She smiled shyly. "It's, um, right this way..."

The woman could hardly concentrate on her driving due to her excitement. The candy-apple red Peugeot Coupé in her charge wove dangerously in and out of the traffic lanes, at one point nearly taking out a spire on one of the town's many Aku monuments. The way she was piloting across the afternoon sky, one would have presumed her the type that starts the day with a mimosa and doesn't stop.   
The car began to drift into the overhead lane as the woman spoke. "Oh! My name's Rebecca," she said, sounding as airheaded as a balloon in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. "Rebecca DuMont. I know that you're called Samurai Jack, but can you tell me something? Just between us: is that your _real_ name?"   
Instead of answering, Jack leaned over and jerked the steering wheel to avoid crashing into the side of a building. Rebecca giggled nervously.   
"Oh my! I don't know what's come over me! I guess with you here in the car, my concentration... well. Don't worry. We're almost there."   
Jack reluctantly released his grip on the wheel.

Miraculously, they arrived at the dress shop in one piece. Rebecca parked her car in the docking area in front of the store, and she and the Samurai entered together. Inside was a comfortable waiting room and a desk where a girl, obviously not human, sat writing on a notepad with one hand, typing into a computer with another, holding the telephone with another, and gesturing for Jack and Rebecca to wait with the forth.   
The Samurai looked her over. His first impression of her was that she was very beautiful, in the manner of an iris or a waterfall; two eyes, no nose, and pouty black lips. She wore a long bias-cut orange dress which contrasted fashionably with her cerulean colored skin. She had a neck like a swan, and all six of her limbs were as thin as reeds. Upon her head grew a reddish-brown substance which bore only the slightest resemblance to hair. She seemed, all in all, a charming girl.   
Once she finished her phone conversation, she abandoned her other projects in order to devote full attention to the new arrivals. It only took a moment before the signs of recognition showed on her face.   
"Rebecca?" she asked, "That you?"   
"Djinny! How are you doing?"   
"I'm great, you?"   
"Excellent. How is business?"   
"Not too good, I'm 'fraid; busy as hell and somehow I'm still broke."   
Rebecca grinned broadly. "Well, I hope you can handle one more project. Look what I brought," she said as she pulled Jack closer.   
Djinny raised an eyebrow."A naked Japanese guy?"   
"It's Samurai Jack!"   
Djinny's eyes widened. "The famous Samurai?"   
Rebecca nodded.   
"Oh my God! It is him! I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you without your clothes on. What can I do for you?"   
Jack repressed his inclination toward embarrassment and bowed his head. "I am very sorry to have to trouble you while you are so busy, but I am in need of a new gi."   
"You mean your kimono thing?"   
"Uh... yes. I was hoping that you might be able to construct one for me."   
"Well of course I can!" she answered, gesturing wildly with all four hands, "Anything for you."   
"There is just one problem," continued Jack, "I fear that I have no money at this time with which to pay you. Please forgive me for asking, but might it be possible--"   
Djinny sighed. "You want it for free."   
Jack bowed even more deeply. "If that is possible."   
Rebecca stepped forward again. "Come on, Djinny, this is Samurai Jack. You can make one little kimono for him, can't you?"   
"Even with two assistants helping me we're drowning in projects. We're behind schedule already..." she sighed again, looking Jack over. "...But okay. I'll do it. Let me just get your measurements."   
Djinny produced a tape measure and came around to the front of the desk. Normally she left jobs like taking measurements to her assistants, but when it came to Samurai Jack, she was not about to pass up a chance to grope him. Jack frowned as she immediately began measuring his inseam. He held perfectly still and, making every effort not to offend the girl who was kindly giving him free clothes, asked, "Are you certain that this is a necessary measurement for the construction of my gi?"   
"Hell yeah," she answered. Djinny then continued on with the remaining areas, recording each number on a blue notepad using her spare set of arms.   
Once all that was done with, the Samurai had to select materials. Djinny got out her samples. As the shop normally dealt in the most ostentatious of formal and theatrical wear, the majority of options were various hues of lamé or fabric covered in sequins. After an exhaustive search they at last came upon a swatch of white synthetic silk and some light grey satin that Jack felt he could live with.   
As Djinny disappeared into the back room, Rebecca, who had gained enough control over herself that she was no longer bouncing with glee, turned to Jack. "So where do you plan on staying tonight?" she asked.   
"I do not know," answered Jack. He had been figuring on spending the evening in a storm drain, as was his usual practice when it came to accommodations in cities.   
"Well, look," said Rebecca, sympathetically, "I have an apartment. If you'd like, you can stay with me for the night. Then tomorrow I can drive you back over here to pick up your clothes."   
Although the idea of driving with her sounded unpleasant, the thought of sleeping on a nice soft bed, or even a nice soft couch, did appeal to him.   
"If it is not too much trouble for you, I would appreciate it."   
"It's no trouble at all! Come on, it's only a few miles from here."

Rebecca's driving seemed to have improved dramatically since the last time, and when she and Jack arrived at her building, he was no longer troubled by the idea of going back to the bridal shop with her in the morning.

***

Rebecca's 12th floor apartment was small and cozy. Through a large window in the livingroom was an excellent view of the cars outside, soaring about in their stacked lanes. Sadly, Jack was too distracted to notice these virtues. He was too caught up with the decor. It was a frightening combination of surrealist and pop art, and worst of all, it was all modeled on _him_. Andy Warhol would have fainted at the sight of the wallpaper, a repeating image of the Samurai's wanted poster advertising the two googolplex bounty. The coffee-table was supported by small art deco style statuettes fashioned in his likeness. The sofa was something else, an atrocity which called to mind a detail in the right panel of Hieronymus Bosch's _Garden of Earthly Delights_. Even a flower pot in the corner which housed a half-dead cactus was painted with fake Momoyama period portraits of him posing in fighting stances.   
Oblivious to the horrified look across her hero's face, Rebecca began showing off the house.  
"This is the livingroom," she said. "The kitchen is behind you. Those are the bedrooms to your left, and that's the bathroom." She paused as if waiting for him to react, but he said nothing; his brain was still trying to comprehend the furniture.   
"Well," she continued after a full twenty seconds of complete silence, "Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I'll be right back."   
Rebecca disappeared into one of the bedrooms. Since Jack could not bring himself to sit on the couch, he began to explore the room. The kitchen was stocked with real food, suggesting that Rebecca was not a robot. No torture devices. No weapons of mass destruction. All signs indicated that the house was safe.   
Feeling somewhat calmer, he set his sword in a corner where it was unlikely to be disturbed and spent the next few moments enjoying the view from the front window. It was indeed a lovely sight.   
An upbeat yet melancholy yet obnoxious groove began to play in the bedroom. Jack could just make out the lyrics:   
_"Girl, I've known you very well. I've seen you growing every day.   
I never really looked before, but now you take my breath away.   
Suddenly you're in my life, a part of everything I do.   
You've got me working day and night just trying to keep a hold of you."_   
He could hear the bedroom door open, and the soft shuffling sound of Rebecca stepping out. Unconsciously he turned to look and was suddenly struck aghast at the image he saw. There Rebecca stood, completely nude, posing seductively against the wall, her creamy skin smothering the faces on the wanted posters. Doubtless the real thing was next. She pranced toward him and began circling him like a shark. All Jack could do was stare at her.   
Just as the dancing nymph was beginning to have an effect on the Samurai's body, he snapped back from his trance. He tried to look away from her and found his eyes focused on the wanted posters. It unnerved him even more. At last he found himself glaring upward at a lightbulb on the ceiling. He tried to think about tai chi.   
"Madam," he said sternly, "I appreciate your allowing me to stay in your home, but your behavior strikes me as most improper. I ask that you stop this."   
"Oh, come on," she said with an electrifying smile. "What am I doing that's wrong? You need to relax a little."   
"I am in the midst of an important journey. I cannot be distracted now with matters of this nature."   
"You're not doing anything right this minute."   
"I cannot afford to expend my chi on such frivolous diversions."   
"Come on! There's nothing wrong with sex. Everybody has it," she said, pressing her body against his. Tai chi. Tai chi.   
"Not everybody is on a quest such as mine," he answered squeamishly.   
"You have to be at least slightly interested. Here--"   
She jumped up and tried to kiss him. Jack turned away, disgusted. He sighed in frustration. "I apologize, for I seem to have misinterpreted your offer, and you seem to have misjudged my character. I will take my leave now."   
Green spots flashed before his eyes due to staring at the lightbulb for so long. As he went to retrieve his sword he was startled to hear the sound of someone crying. He turned to find Rebecca curled up in a pitiful heap upon the carpet. Smoke-colored tears poured down her face, washing away her eye makeup.   
"I'm sorry," Rebecca sobbed, "I was only trying to impress you. I just wanted you to be happy!" She burst into another fit of tears.   
Jack melted. He moved next to her. "Do not cry," he said consolingly, patting her on the back in the most non-suggestive manner he could.   
"You hate me now!" she wailed.   
"I do not hate you. Please, calm yourself."   
She leaned over and started crying onto his chest. He was a bit uncomfortable with the situation, but raised no objection. Rebecca's tears faded quickly under the circumstance, but for a while after she feigned weeping in order to stay pressed up against him. She stopped just as Jack was beginning to grow suspicious.   
"I'm sorry," she said, wiping tears and mascara from her cheeks. "I didn't mean to get so upset. It's just that you're like a hero to me, and I don't want you to be angry with me. I can't believe I'm so stupid..."   
Jack began to consider the situation. Clearly the girl liked him, and by the furniture he could guess that she must be very devoted indeed. Perhaps his presence had affected her judgement. If Bishamon or Amaterasu-Omikami appeared before him, he might not know how to behave either. He decided to give her another chance. "I am not angry with you. I would be more than happy to stay here with you, but only on condition that you cease this behavior."   
"Of course, of course. Oh, thank you!" she cried, hugging him tightly. Jack tried to hide his discomfort.   
Just as he opened his mouth to suggest that she go put on some clothes, there was a sound of keys being forced into the lock of the front door. They both started. Rebecca pulled away, gasping in horror.   
"Quick, into the bedroom!"   
"Why?"   
"Just go, quick!"   
Clearly seeing that the girl was panicked, Jack did as instructed. Rebecca followed him. The instant they disappeared into the bedroom, the sound of someone entering the apartment could be heard.   
"Get into the closet!" Rebecca whispered with all the force of shouting.   
"What is going on?" Jack whispered back.   
"It's my husband! I wasn't expecting him home this early!"   
Jack stared at her, appalled. The day just got worse every minute.   
"We can't let him find you!" Rebecca squeaked. "Quick, into the closet; I'll try to get rid of him."   
She shoved Jack into the closet before he could react and closed the door on him. It was done just in time. At that moment, her husband entered the bedroom.   
"Donald!" she said, turning toward him. "What are you doing home so early?"   
Donald moved toward her. "I was on my break and noticed it was getting cloudy. I thought I should stop by and get my umbrella... Why are you naked?"   
Rebecca suddenly realized that she was still dressed as Lady Godiva. "Why?" she said, trying to think up a good story, "Well, it's funny you should ask that. You see... I wanted to surprise you when you came home!"   
Donald raised an eyebrow. "Really?"   
"Yes! See, I saw that it was getting cloudy as well, and so I knew you would probably stop by to get an umbrella. I was just getting undressed as you walked in."   
"Oh," Donald said, seeming mildly surprised. "Well, seeing as I am home..."

Jack was huddled quietly on the dark floor of the closet. From where he sat, he could hear the whole conversation between Rebecca and her husband, followed by twenty minutes of squeaking bedsprings. His head began to burn like it had been rubbed with capsicum. He was mortified.   
He considered jumping out of the closet right then and telling her husband everything. Then he decided it would serve no purpose. Besides, the man was probably happier this way.   
The soft moans and muted gasps he heard through the closet door signaled the end of the encounter. Jack began to listen more intently, waiting for some sign that he could leave. One thing was certain: he was not going to stay around that fickle, deceitful woman for one second longer than necessary.

"Well, I'm going to be happy back at work, that's for sure," said a grinning Donald as he buttoned his shirt.   
Rebecca smiled, slipping back into the red dress she had been wearing earlier. "I'd like to think so. You're late returning from your break. Your boss isn't going to be too happy with you if you don't get back there right away."   
Donald kissed her on the cheek. "You're right. I just need to get that umbrella I came here for, and I'll be on my way. I think it's in the closet..."   
He took a step toward the closet door. Rebecca suddenly jumped in his way. "You really should just get going," she said.   
"It doesn't take long to find an umbrella," answered Donald.   
"I really don't think it's going to rain today. You shouldn't trouble yourself."   
"I'd rather have one, just in case."   
He continued toward the closet door. Rebecca scoured her brain for another argument. "Actually, I think I moved the umbrellas. I think I put them in... my car."   
"Really? When was this?"   
"Last night... after you fell asleep."   
"That's strange. When I got my coat this morning I remember seeing them right there."   
"I meant this morning."   
Donald raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"   
"Of course not! Why would anything be wrong? Oh, dear, it's getting late. You had better get going."   
Donald nodded. "Just as soon as I get my umbrella."   
"But I just told you! The umbrellas are in my car!"   
"I'm going to check in here anyway."   
Rebecca gave up. The best she could think to do now was hope her 'surprised' face would be convincing enough for Donald. She held her breath as he opened the door...

The closet appeared perfectly normal. No near-naked samurais in sight. Donald spotted the umbrellas, grabbed one, and began heading out.   
"Told you," he said as he was leaving.   
Rebecca smiled and nodded. She waited till she heard the click of the front door closing. As soon as her husband was gone, she raced to the closet, hoping to learn what had happened to Jack.   
A quick glance upward and her question was answered. He was on the ceiling, his body rigid, his hands and feet pressed firmly against the wall to hold himself up.   
"There you are!" she screamed. "It's alright; he's gone."   
Jack released his grip and landed gracefully on the floor.   
"That was close. I was worried for a minute there," said Rebecca. Her demeanor changed then and she started rubbing up against him like an affectionate feline. "Well," she purred accordingly, "Now that he's gone, how about you and me go over to the bed and pick up where we left off?"   
Jack's brow furrowed. This girl didn't give up. "I believe we left off when I asked you to end this behavior."   
Rebecca laughed deliciously. "Oh, come on!" she said, "If it's the mess that bothers you, I can go and wash up."   
Jack's agitation was growing more apparent. "No. Your offer is most kind, but I cannot accept it. I will leave--"   
They were interrupted again by the sound of someone entering the apartment. Rebecca quickly shoved the Samurai back into the closet.   
Donald entered once more, still completely unaware of what had transpired.   
"Forgot my coat," he said, heading for the chair over which the item was draped. He grabbed it, and quickly disappeared out the bedroom door a second time.   
Rebecca thought that would be the end of it until she heard her husband's voice call from the livingroom:   
"Honey? Why is there a sword in here?"   
Oh, dear God. Jack had left his sword in the livingroom.   
"A sword?" she called back nervously. "Oh, yes! Of course. It's an exact replica of the one Samurai Jack uses. You know how I _love_ Samurai Jack!"   
"Indeed I do," Donald replied. "Alright, then. See you later."   
She waited until she was certain that he had left before opening the closet door once again.   
"It's like being married to the bubonic plague," she gasped at the Samurai. "You think you've gotten rid of it, but it just keeps reappearing..."   
"I should depart as well," said Jack, stepping out of the closet. He turned towards the door. Rebecca tried to stop him.   
"Oh, come on, Jack! You really don't want to miss out on this, do you?" She lifted her dress so that it was hanging like a cape from her neck, exposing her admittedly attractive figure.   
"Enough," Jack remarked bitterly. He tried to step away from her. Rebecca held onto him.   
"Are you sure?" she sang. She sprang to her tiptoes and kissed him passionately.   
Jack exploded. After all the other insults the woman had inflicted upon him, to top it off by forcing on him one of the most vile sexual deviancies imaginable to someone from his world was just too much. He wanted to slap her; if there was ever a woman who deserved to be beaten, this had to be her. Nevertheless, he restrained himself. He shoved her away and went for the door.  
Rebecca was surprised by his reaction. She hadn't meant to upset him. "Jack?" she called, pulling her dress back, "Wait, look, I'm sorry. I promise I won't do it again."   
The Samurai stormed out of the bedroom. Rebecca followed him out to the livingroom.   
"Wait!" she called after him. "The spare room is all fixed up already! You can just lock yourself in there and not have to so much as look at me again for the rest of the night!"   
"Thank you. No."   
"Just stay a little longer? I can make you some food. We can sit down and have some miso..."   
"No more of this trickery! If you seek a tale with which to amuse your friends, you have obtained one. Even if you were not married I would find your behavior to be deplorable. I should never have allowed these deviations to be taken so far. I thank you for your kindness to me, and I bid you good day."   
Jack picked up his sword and was about to go for the front door when the sound of a key turning in the lock could be heard once again.   
"Oh, God," Rebecca whispered, "Donald must have forgotten something else. Quick! Go hide!"   
"No," said Jack, standing perfectly still.   
"What? Are you crazed? He'll kill us both!"   
Jack folded his arms. "I am through with your games. If he comes in and wishes to know what has happened, I will tell him."   
Rebecca sighed, and began rehearsing her 'surprised' face again.   
The subtle difference between fake and genuine surprise was exhibited as the door was kicked open, revealing three FAMAS brand robot bounty hunters.   
Nico, François and Lautrec were large, clunky older models, but still quite deadly in spite of it. Their left arms were equipped with fingers for grabbing and picking things up; their right was the "fire-arm," designed as nothing more than a gun barrel. Their hollow torsos each held 16 STANAG magazines containing 30 rounds each; a bit under 1500 bullets between them. Identical models dressed in identical black coats and fedoras, the only way to tell them apart was by the name-stickers adhered to the chest of each one.   
Seemingly not noticing the names, Rebecca asked in a stunned voice: "Who are you?"   
The robots simply began scanning over the interesting decor of the livingroom. There was no doubt: The man before them was Samurai Jack.   
"And how did you get a key!?" she demanded.   
The three intruders aimed their guns simultaneously. Rebecca started to scream.   
Just as they opened fire, she felt herself being pulled from the path of the bullets. Samurai Jack had rescued her. Now the two of them lay on the floor, using the ridiculous couch as a shield from the shots which were aimed at them. The Samurai's fiberglass twin was chipped and torn with each round that hit it.   
Jack had to yell over the gunfire. "Is there no back exit to this place?"   
"No," Rebecca screamed back, "There's only the one door."   
Jack paused for a bit, trying to think of a solution. The three bounty hunters continued to fire all the while. Even if they weren't hitting the real Samurai, that couch certainly made them feel as if they were achieving something.   
"Maybe if we stay here long enough," offered Rebecca, "They'll run out of ammunition."   
Jack looked at her. Being that he hailed from quite some time in the past, he knew little of how machine guns worked. "You mean it is possible for them to run out?"   
"If they don't shoot through the couch first..."   
"We must not take that chance," said Jack, rising to his knees. "We will have to escape out the window."   
"But the window doesn't open."   
Jack grabbed her by the arm and turned her toward what was going to be their exit. "Start running. Now."   
With Jack's hand still firmly grasping her wrist, Rebecca took off into a scamper. Jack ran along side, with much more speed and grace. For eleven of the fourteen feet which they covered, he was practically dragging her. The robots, watching from the doorway, paused momentarily as they adjusted their aim to match the new position of the fleeing couple.   
When they resumed fire, the barrage of bullets caused the window to shatter. Jack gripped Rebecca's wrist even more tightly and leapt forward, out the window, into the turmoil of flying cars. Rebecca screamed one long, trilless note as she suddenly saw the ground, a full eleven stories down, rushing toward them. Then quite abruptly she felt her arm jerk, and the next thing she knew, the world was zipping past as quickly as a Toyotsubishi Super-Eclipse. She looked up to find Jack clinging to the bumper of just such a car using his right hand. With his left hand, he still held tightly onto her wrist. As for his sword, it had been tucked into the side of his fundoshi.   
Rebecca watched her apartment building quickly shrink into the distance.   
"Well, thank God I put my clothes back on," was all she could think to say.

CHAPTER 2

  
Jack had managed to get them back onto solid ground. They were now wandering the streets, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves. Even though the evening had turned quite dark, the task was not easy; a barefoot woman walking down the street accompanied by a large man in his underwear carrying a sword was the sort of thing people tended to notice.   
To make matters worse, Donald's earlier prediction had been correct and it was now raining heavily. Neither one had any sort of protection from the water nor the cold. Rebecca in particular was not holding up well. Her skin had already turned a pale bluish shade. Certain that she would freeze to death if she didn't find a distraction, she spoke up.   
"I don't know how those robots managed to find you. Nobody knew you were in my apartment."   
Rebecca waited anxiously for his response. Jack took a long time to reply.   
"Perhaps they saw us enter," he finally said. "It does not matter."   
It appeared that was all she would get from him. Not content to stop at that she asked: "Where are we going to stay tonight?"   
Jack stopped walking. The prospect of spending more time with this crazed woman did not appeal to him. On the other hand, he couldn't bring himself to put her in danger just because he didn't particularly like her.   
Her apartment was assuredly unsafe, for it was very likely the bounty hunters were still waiting there. Neither of them had any money, so renting a room was out of the question. And just by looking at her, he could see that she wouldn't last long on the streets. She was already half-frozen, and spending the night with him in a flooded storm drain would not help that.   
An idea finally came to him. "Where is your husband?" he asked. Certainly her husband would do much better to take care of her. And once unburdened by her, Jack could return to the storm drain until he obtained his new gi in the morning.   
"Donald?" she asked, dazed. She was so cold that it was becoming difficult for her not to pass out.   
"Where is he?" repeated Jack.   
"He's probably still at work," she said, shivering violently.   
"Tell me how to get there."   
Rebecca paused, her teeth chattering audibly. "W-w-where are we?" she asked.   
Jack frowned. He was not at all familiar with the city, and didn't know precisely where they were. "Um... well... perhaps if we walk around some, you will recognize our location."   
So began the long journey through the city's avenues and boulevards. Once in a while Jack would pause and ask Rebecca if she recognized where they were. He never seemed to get much of an answer out of her, and was beginning to question whether there was any point to this when finally she spoke up:   
"It's close, it's close. The building is just up this street."   
Jack smiled and began to walk at a more lively pace. The freezing rain was beginning to subside, and Rebecca would be out of his life momentarily. The building to which Rebecca directed him contrasted sharply with the city's usual architectural mode. In fact, the structure had been built before Aku had conquered the world, managing to survive the attacks, avoid being torn down, and escape remodeling. Despite the layers of grime and the chipping façade, it remained a fine example of early baroque architecture. Jack's smile faded. Perhaps he was more familiar with the city than he had thought. But now was not an appropriate time to reflect on Paris as he had known it. He pushed the thought from his mind.   
The pair entered the lobby and were happy to find that the place was well heated. Rebecca requested a few moments to warm herself before continuing, which Jack granted. They sat down together on a rococo-style bench meant to coordinate with the building's outside decor. Any art historian worth his B.S. degree would have flipped.   
Soon the color returned to Rebecca's face and her shivers began to wane.   
"So," she said quietly, staring at the floor-tiles. "I suppose this is goodbye."   
"Yes."   
She turned toward the Samurai. "Do you know how to get to Djinny's on your own?"   
"I believe so."   
Rebecca smiled. "You know, I'm really glad that I met you, even if things came out kind of crazy. I'm something of a thrill-seeker. I do things that are dangerous all the time. Did you know I'm a yellow-belt in Ninjitsu? It's true. My sensei said that I'm a very fast learner and that I have a lot of potential and oh God please let me come with you!!!" By the time she finished she was groveling on the floor before him.   
Jack was growing impatient. "Madam, I am afraid your ideas about my lifestyle are far more complimentary than the reality of it. You would not enjoy living as I do."   
"Sure I would! I'd gladly give up a few household conveniences to travel the world, selflessly trying to rescue it from Aku's tyranny, and with the one I love by my side. Oh, Jack! Let's do it!"   
"No."   
"Why not?"   
He stood up. Rebecca remained on the floor in front of him. "Go upstairs to your husband," he said icily. "I am sure that he will be very worried once he sees you."   
Rebecca rose. "Come on! I'm feeling fine now! I was just in a little funk there. Let me just stay with you till morning."   
The Samurai turned around to face the door and slowly walked back out to the street, leaving Rebecca behind.

He had walked perhaps a block and a half before he spotted the Cadillac. The shiny black metal almost blended in with the rain-soaked pavement. At least there were some advantages to being in a city. In a dark forest he might not have noticed a vehicle which camouflaged so neatly with the surroundings. Trying not to let on that he had spotted them he examined the car more closely. As he suspected, the figures he viewed through the rain-spattered glass windows matched the robots who had attacked Rebecca's apartment. But only two of them seemed to be in the car. There was no sign of the third one.   
Jack placed one hand on his sword as he quickened his step. The chances that he could avoid a fight were slim, but he still hoped for the best.   
As he passed an alleyway, the elusive third robot jumped out at him, the NICO sticker glaring brightly in the lamplight. Expecting this, Jack drew his sword quickly. A brief flash, the sound of metal against metal, and suddenly Nico's right arm was gone. Though the robots faces were not designed to exhibit emotion, it became very clear that he was not happy.   
Apparently François and Lautrec felt the same. The Cadillac's engine burst to life and instantly it was at Jack's side. The Samurai was blocked in. Unless he wanted to fight three angry gun-toting robot bounty hunters on a wet, slippery sidewalk, he had to get out of there fast. His eyes swam over his surroundings, looking for an escape. There was only one direction to go: up.   
Having some months prior mastered the art of "Jumping Good," Jack took the opportunity to employ the skill. He leapt upward, landing nimbly on a fourth story balcony. He peeked back over the edge and suddenly wondered how he had managed to forget that cars could fly. He could see the robot's vehicle rising from the ground, coming toward him menacingly.   
He abruptly spun around and found his best route of escape blocked by a sliding glass door. Not caring about the consequences of property damage in his moment of desperation, Jack hit the glass with his sword, puncturing it. He followed this with a swift kick, and thus he was granted access to the building's interior.   
The two robots cared even less about property damage and floored the gas, plowing the vehicle through the remaining glass door and following the Samurai right into the building. Jagged, knife-like shards of metal and glass sprayed over Jack, inflicting upon him several (thankfully) minor injuries. Things deteriorated rapidly as Lautrec leaned out the passenger-side window, his right arm aimed at the Samurai. He began to fire.   
Although the room was large and vacant, there wasn't nearly enough room for Jack to outmaneuver the car and the spray of bullets for any length of time. He had to make a quick move for the door. He seemed to be in some kind of hotel or apartment, and knowing the typical layout of these places, exiting would most probably leave him in a hallway. Not the best situation, certainly, but it did present its opportunities.   
Jack wove several times around the room, afraid to open the door since it would require him to pause. Even the instant it took to turn the knob might be long enough for the robot to make a hit. After circling for the third time, the walls were starting to look like swiss cheese. Luckily, so did the door, and in such a vitiated state it was easy for him to knock it down and escape. He started down the hall as quickly as he could. Behind him he heard an explosive noise of shattering glass, crunching metal, crumbling plaster and splintering wood. He turned to find that the robots had actually followed him into the hallway, car and all, decimating a wall in the process. Magellenic clouds of dust wafted through the air. The bulky machine just barely fit in the narrow passage, but Jack nevertheless found it to be plowing quickly toward him. He had no time to lose; pushing himself as hard as he could, he hurried to the stairwell.   
Lautrec continued to fire and François continued to drive, the car's jet engines singeing the walls. In one swift motion Jack threw open the door to the stairs. He flinched when he felt a sudden sharp pain in his right shoulder. He was already descending the staircase when he realized what had happened. He was in pain, but knew that hesitation of any sort would do nothing more than increase his chances of taking another bullet.   
Back in the hallway, the second robot leapt out of the passenger seat; the stairway was too narrow for the car. The chase would have to continue on foot.   
François, who did not feel it was worth the trouble to fuss with the wires that connected him to the Cadillac's dashboard for hands-free driving, leaned back into the seat. He was frustrated: the girl who had tipped them off that afternoon had promised that the Samurai had no idea they were coming and that it would be an easy job. Women always seemed to underestimate the difficulty of any task.

Although the Samurai was curious as to how he had been found with Rebecca, he had more pressing matters to concern himself with. Plus, as he had said earlier, it didn't really matter; the robots would continue to hunt him whether or not he knew.   
The staircase went down in a spiral. Jack sprinted across the steps four at a time. He clenched his teeth as the pain in his shoulder intensified. Every time he swung his arm he could feel the bullet still caught beneath his flesh. He could hear the squealing of ungreased mechanics a few coils above him: one of the robots was following him. Then another sound, a loud eruption echoed through the chamber. He was being shot at again.   
The exit was in sight. The Samurai leaned forward, trying to increase his speed. He reached the door, grabbing the handle and flinging it open with his good arm. He was surprised to find Nico staring back at him.   
"Salut," the robot said, a large pistol clasped in his left hand. Sparks still flickered from the hole where his other arm had been.   
Jack could hear Lautrec behind him, getting closer. He had begun to reach for his sword but realized it would be useless. He dropped both arms to his sides.   
"I will come quietly," he bluffed.   
Lautrec approached. "Héééééé! We have got him!"   
"Ouais," responded Nico, "Mais maintenant nous devons transporter lui à l'auto."   
Each robot grabbed one of Jack's arms, holding him while they waited for François to bring the car back down to the street. Since backing a car out of a narrow hallway and decimated hotel room was not likely to be an easy task, they expected that it might take a while. What they didn't expect was for Jack to make his move right then.   
The Samurai planted his feet on the ground and slammed his arms forward. Although the bounty hunters were large and heavy, he managed to send them toppling to the pavement. Not wanting to waste another moment, he took off into a run.   
Racing up the street, he could hear the robots beginning to fire at him. He tried to run faster. One lucky bullet punctured his right leg and he stumbled. He did not hit the concrete, but the moments worth of effort it took to stay standing was just enough time for a second bullet to come crashing through his torso. His face contorted in agony, but he made no sound.   
Aware that any further delay would only make matters worse, he forced himself to resume his escape. The injuries had thrown his coordination out of whack, and he scrambled chaotically from the francophones' view.

François arrived on the street with the now heavily dented black Cadillac. Nico and Lautrec jumped in.   
"He is getting away!" cried Lautrec.   
François sent the car whizzing through the air while Lautrec continued to whine.   
"We have already lost sight of him."   
"Crainte pas," said Nico. "Il a été tiré trois fois. Il ne deviendra pas très lointain."   
The other two nodded in agreement. "Fort bien," said François, "Keep looking out for him." 

Jack had managed to run six city blocks, and every step had been torture. The bullet was still buried inside of his calf, and it seemed as if it were shredding away at his muscle with every movement. It was getting to be more than he could bear. To make matters worse, the blood loss was starting to get to him. Already he felt very tired and weak.   
The only good fortune he could claim was that it appeared the robots had lost track of him. He hadn't seen any sign of them since he had acquired his injuries. He decided it would be alright if he stopped running, just long enough to catch his breath. He moaned slightly as he leaned himself against a wall. Instantly he felt the urge to take it a step further and lie down.   
No. He knew better. It would not do at all to pass out on the sidewalk. He wished that he had his gi, even if only to destroy it-- he needed something to make bandages with.   
As he was standing there, blood began trickling from his shoulder and down his arm, then dripping from his fingers into a crimson puddle on the concrete. Something similar was happening with his leg. His fundoshi was soaking up most of the blood that oozed from his side.   
The Samurai suddenly realized that he would probably bleed to death unless he could find a doctor. Despite being disoriented and weak, he forced himself to continue down the street. Although there were many other people out and about, not one offered to help the plainly injured man. His vision was greying, and unless he chanced upon medical assistance very soon, there wouldn't be much hope for him.   
A sudden, particularly sharp pain in his body sent him toppling to the dampened concrete. He wasn't sure what he had done, but he could feel the wound in his side begin to gush.   
So this was it. The Famous Samurai Jack was going to die half naked on the street, killed by francophone robots. He knew it was written that the way of the Samurai is in dying, but he had somehow expected a more dignified ending than this.   
He moaned quietly and closed his eyes, certain that he was lost.   
Just then a cold, obviously metal hand grabbed his shoulder and flipped him over. His eyes fluttered open. Though everything was dark and blurry, he could tell that he was looking at the three bounty hunters.   
"Tiens," said Nico, "Voila le Samurai. Tout comme j'ai dit."   
"Ouais," answered François, "Et il n'était pas presque aussi difficile que j'avais craint. Très facile deux googolplex, vraiment."   
"Se dépêchons vers le haut et l'obtenir à monseigneur Aku, avant qu'il meure sur nous."   
Jack stirred at the only word he recognized: Aku.   
Desperation triggered a sudden burst of strength within him and miraculously he was able to pull away from the robots and get to his feet. He trembled violently, his pain intense as he tried to affect a threatening posture.   
"I will not allow myself to be delivered to Aku, as long as I am living." He drew his sword and tried to ignore the gush of blood that poured from his shoulder as a result of the gesture. "I can still fight you if I must," he added, slowly.   
The bounty hunters paused for a moment, trying to decide how to respond. They finally decided upon laughter.   
"Ah, mercy, mercy!" cried Lautrec, "You are barely able to stand, let alone fight."   
Jack responded by slicing the obnoxious robot in half lengthwise. The action drained him. The other two grew irate. They drew their guns.   
Jack fully expected this to be his last moment; there was nowhere to escape, and the francophones wouldn't miss their target from such a short distance. But the gunfire never came, and the cause of its prevention occurred so quickly and unexpectedly that his inert brain didn't register it immediately. A dinky grey Citroën 2CV had suddenly diverted from traffic and come plummeting from the sky like a kamikaze, plowing down the two robots before crashing into a brick wall.   
Jack was so dazed that he didn't even react when Rebecca, bloodied and limping, emerged from the badly damaged car, brushing shattered glass form her dress.   
"Jack! Are you okay? Jack?"   
She could see that he was dripping blood ferociously, and his balance seemed quite a bit off. Hurriedly, she got out of her car to help the injured warrior.   
"Jack, come on! Don't pass out. Say something."   
He moaned as she began dragging him into the car, nearly dislocating his shoulder as she tried to pull him. "I... I think I'm dying..." he responded, not even realizing what he said.   
"Great," she said, pushing his limp body into the passenger seat. "Well, try not to die yet. I'm going to try and get you to a doctor."   
She crawled over him, into the driver's seat. Although the car was badly damaged, it was still capable of running. Rebecca slammed down the pedals and fumbled with the controls until the vehicle was sent speeding away into the night. She had to think quickly: Samurai Jack was badly injured, and as a wanted fugitive, she couldn't take him to a hospital. What other alternatives were there?   
"Gabriel," she said aloud, swerving the car in the direction of the aforesaid's home.   
Surely Gabriel would have some idea of what to do. She could take Jack there and everything would be okay. Then maybe, she thought, just maybe, when Jack was recovered, he would be so grateful to her for saving his life that he would want to have sex with her.

CHAPTER 3

  
Gabriel Lorsange had let down his hair, kicked off his stiletto heels, removed his false eyelashes and settled down for a pleasant evening at home watching TV when he was startled by a battered grey Citroën nearly crashing into his front window. He leapt from the couch, nearly tripping on his skirt, and glanced outside. As surprised as he was already, he was even more so when he saw his sister climb out of the wreck, dragging along with her none other than Samurai Jack.   
"Rebecca!" he shouted as he opened the front door, "What is going on here?"   
"I'll explain it all later. Now, quick, help me get him into the house."   
"Is this who I think it is?"   
"Most likely," she answered. "Just get him inside. Like I said, I'll explain later."   
The instant that he touched the man, Gabriel found himself covered in blood. "My God. We've got to get him to a hospital."   
"Well, that's just the thing... how long until you graduate from the medical school?"   
His heavily made-up eyes widened even further. "Oh, for fuck's sake. You're not serious."   
"Would I have wasted the time to bring him here otherwise? He's dying, Gabriel, and you know I can't take him to anyone else."   
"Rebecca, I'm not learning to be a trauma doctor! I'm learning to be a plastic surgeon!"   
"But you had to learn about this sort of thing as part of the requirement, right? You always used to complain about it!"   
"But even if I can figure out what to do for him, I don't keep any medical supplies in my house!"   
"Well try, unless you can think of something else!"   
By this point the siblings had managed to drag the unconscious Samurai inside and laid him out on the floor. Gabriel nervously put on his glasses and began looking over the scene.   
"Okay, okay..." he said, trying to stay calm. "Umm... the first thing to check are the ABC's. First, I need to check his airway--"   
"GODDAMMIT GABRIEL HE IS PASSED OUT AND BLEEDING TO DEATH ON YOUR LIVINGROOM FLOOR!!!"   
Gabriel was restraining tears by now. This was a bit more pressure than he was prepared to handle. Trying his best to stay calm and think coherently, he spoke aloud. "Let's see, let's see... um... he's bleeding. Okay. We need to stop that. Get some towels and bandages. They're in the bathroom. Hurry!"   
Rebecca raced off for the bathroom. Gabriel meanwhile ran as fast as he could to the kitchen, threw open the freezer, grabbed the ice tray, and returned to the injured Samurai without even bothering to close the freezer door.   
When Rebecca came back she held an armful of wrinkled towels. Gabriel took them and quickly began to wrap them around handfuls of ice. He handed one of the packs to Rebecca.   
"Put that on his arm, where he's shot. Put pressure on it."   
Rebecca did as instructed. Gabriel fashioned three more of the ice packs and began arranging them on Jack's body.   
"This is good," he said, noticing the injury to Jack's side. "This one has an exit wound."   
"How long do we have to stay like this?" asked Rebecca.   
"We have to hold these for ten minutes to see if he stops bleeding."   
"If? Gabriel!"   
Gabriel glared at his sister. "If I knew a better way, I'd do it! Besides, on at least one of these injuries, it's good that he's bleeding so much. It means that there's no real internal damage... I think."   
"I'd think that gushing blood would be an excellent indication that there was internal damage! Blood is supposed to be on the inside, not on... everything!"   
Gabriel was growing nervous again. "Let's see... oh! Fuck! How long has he been out?"   
"I don't know... five minutes? I came here as fast as I could."   
"Shit! We need.... Ah! I keep telling you, I don't have any medical supplies here! He needs medications, an IV, something to get his blood pressure back up... Hold onto these."   
Gabriel suddenly dashed off, letting the ice-packs he'd been holding fall to the floor. Rebecca screamed after him.   
"Gabriel! I don't have enough hands!"   
Frustrated, Gabriel called back. "You want me to teleport across the house? I'm doing my best!"   
He ran into the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of caffeine pills from the cabinet. He shook the jar, hearing roughly four pills rattle inside. Were he not out of breath, he would have sighed. Then he spun around, his stockings causing him to skid across the linoleum, and returned to the livingroom.   
He tossed the bottle at Rebecca who was leaning over Jack, her body contorted in order to hold all four ice-packs onto his wounds.   
"Give him some of these!" said Gabriel. "Don't ask me how! Just make sure he doesn't choke."   
At that Gabriel ran off and began tearing apart the kitchen. Rebecca reluctantly released the ice-packs in order to examine the bottle.   
"Caffeine pills? How are these supposed to help?" she called out.   
"I don't know!" Gabriel screamed, frustrated. "If you know some junkie with amphetamines and shit around then take him over there! This is what I've got."   
Rebecca sighed angrily. "Oh, for God's sake! I'd have done better to bring him to mom's house."   
Gabriel was ready to weep with frustration. "I can't remember whether or not to remove the bullets... I heard somewhere you're not supposed to, but I also heard that you are... and if he doesn't stop bleeding, he'll need surgery... oh shit! We've got to keep him warm, too-- Rebecca, we really need to take him to a hospital!"   
"He'll just be arrested of we do that!"   
"Well, it's preferable to letting him die on my carpet!"   
Rebecca sighed. "Okay. What, exactly, do you need in order to make sure he'll be alright?"   
"He needs antibiotics, a blood transfusion, probably an X-ray or an ultrasound..."   
"Do you think we can move him into the car?"   
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "What are you planning to do?"   
"It's for the good of the world. Some unscrupulous activities are allowed."   
"Oh, God. Rebecca, what are you planning?"   
"We need medical supplies, which we don't have... Would the medical school have what we need?"   
Gabriel winced realizing what his sister had in mind.

The battered grey Citroën parked noisily on the 7th floor balcony of the medical school. Rebecca sprang from the car, leaving Gabriel and the unconscious Samurai in the back. It was arguable as to which of the two men looked more pale.   
"What should I get first?" asked Rebecca.   
"It doesn't really matter... a blood-testing kit and sutures and umm... whatever else you find on that counter. Just be careful; there is a security-bot."   
Rebecca nodded. Quietly, she took a tire-iron from the back of the car, then with all her strength used it to smash in the window of the school's operating room. Gabriel cringed at the noise. The Samurai lay motionless.   
Rebecca crept barefoot over the glass shards, into the dark room. She knew that she had to move quickly. First thing on her list was the blood-testing kit. Gabriel mentioned that it would be out on a counter. For several moments she groped through the dark until she was able to locate it at last. She took as many items from the countertop as she could carry, then scurried back over to the car.   
"What should I get now?" she asked, handing over the loot.   
"Go for the ultrasound machine," Gabriel answered. "It's the first thing you see when you come in through the front door. I'll do the blood-test while you're in there."   
Rebecca raced back into the room, stepping on the remains of the window but not noticing. She was on a mission for the world, afterall, and there was no time to be inhibited by minor injuries.   
She traveled across the room toward the door. From there, the first machine she saw was about as large as a microwave and rested on a wheeled cart. She tore the plug from the wall and began rolling the device out to the balcony. Once it reached the car, she removed the machine from its stand and started wrestling it into the car.   
"How's the blood test going?" she asked Gabriel.   
"Good. It's a simple test, it just takes a moment for the results... Ah! No, Rebecca! That's a heart-rate monitor! We need an ultrasound!"   
"What? This was the first thing I saw from the door!"   
"Well then grab the second thing! That's not the machine we need. I know his heart-rate, and it's not good. The ultrasound! It's small-- it's portable! Hurry!"   
Rebecca dropped the heart-rate monitor to the concrete, shattering the viewing screen into two-hundred green-tinted shards. Had she been hooked up to such a machine, her pulse would have read about 190. Racing back into the dark operating room, she managed to locate what was probably the ultrasound: it was a much smaller device than the other, made of white plastic. It almost looked like a child's version of a medical device. Hurriedly, she snatched it up.   
Suddenly the door flew open, revealing the security-bot, standing about three feet tall and equipped with a red-glowing motion-detecting eye, a green-glowing heat-detecting eye, and two guns. Rebecca shrieked with surprise upon seeing it.   
Crime levels being what they were, the security-bot was programmed to shoot without any regard as to whether the person in question was actually trying to resist arrest or indeed even armed. Rebecca gasped, hearing the first clicks of the gun being loaded.   
"Gabriel!" she screamed, "Start the car!"   
Just as the words left her mouth, the first set of bullets were fired. They came so close she could feel them rustle her dress. Still carrying the ultrasound, she ducked behind the operating table, just as she heard the Citroën's engine sputtering to life outside. She glanced around the room, trying to find a way out. Glimpsing another rolling stand, she devised a plan. Protectively clutching the ultrasound to her chest, she leapt onto it, her weight propelling the wheels into motion and sending it across the room at great speed toward the balcony. Behind her, the security-bot began to fire a second round. The bullets caused occasional sparks.   
Finally Rebecca, the stand and the ultrasound machine slammed against the Citroën, the sudden force knocking her onto the car's mangled hood.   
"Is this the right machine?" she yelled over the gunfire, holding the device above her head.   
"Get in the car!" Gabriel screamed, panicked.   
"Is that a yes?"   
"Yes it's the right fucking machine! Get in the car!"   
Frantically, Rebecca pushed the ultrasound machine through the hole where the windshield used to be. "Just go!" she cried "Hurry!"   
Gabriel was about to protest when the security-bot's latest round struck the remains of the car's front bumper. At that, he backed up with Rebecca still clinging to the hood, hitting the back of the car against the balcony railing and knocking off the license plate. The screams of both siblings echoed for a full block as the vehicle took off into the sky.   
Gabriel drove for only a short distance before stopping so that Rebecca could get inside of the car. Once in, the first thing she said surprised him.   
"Ah! Gabriel! What happened to Samurai Jack?"   
Gabriel turned and found that Jack, who was not buckled in, had rolled off the back seat in all the commotion and was now lying on the floor. Weary and nervous, Gabriel turned back to driving.   
"He'll be fine, trust me," he said bitterly. "His blood-type is AB, by the way. That's good, that means any kind of blood we find will be compatible."   
"So we could just give him some of ours, then?"   
Gabriel winced. "Theoretically yes. However, he needs a lot. We'd both be unconscious by the time we pumped enough into him. Oh, and incidentally we don't have a pump."   
Rebecca cried out in frustration. She stopped to take a couple of deep, calming breaths before speaking again.   
"Gabriel," she said, "Drive me to a pay-phone. Stay parked nearby, but not too close. I have an idea of how to get the rest of the supplies we need."

She had robbed a medical school. She had hijacked not one, but two ambulances. She had made some shady dealings with an old hobo. All in less than twenty minutes. That taken into consideration, it was not surprising that there were now three police vehicles chasing after the crumpled Citroën. All the flashing and noise, one might have taken it for Mardi Gras.   
Rebecca drove maniacally trying to lose them while Gabriel sat in the back with Jack, performing every medical procedure the famous Samurai required. All the necessary machines were plugged into the car's cigarette lighter. It was not an ideal circumstance, but there was no other option; Jack had gone for over forty minutes without the medical attention he needed, and it couldn't be postponed any longer.   
Just as Gabriel began the delicate task of removing the bullet from Jack's leg, Rebecca called back:   
"Hold on, Gabriel. I'm about to make a dive."   
Gabriel gasped. "No, Rebecca! We're not strapped in and there's no windshield! You'll kill us!"   
Rebecca muttered a curse. She drove silently for a minute before speaking again. "Okay. I have another idea. Gabriel, try to keep Jack hidden. Try to keep yourself hidden, for that matter. I'm going to pull over and talk to them. When you see your chance, jump into the front seat and drive off. Okay?"   
"You're insane, Rebecca."   
"I know. Just drive back to your house as fast as you can, and take care of Jack. I'll try to stall them. I'll contact you..." she tried to think of when she would next be able to contact him. She didn't know. "...Eventually."   
At that, Rebecca slowed the car and parked it on the nearest rooftop. She emerged with her hands raised to the sky. The three police vehicles parked in a semicircle around her.   
Rebecca put on her most innocent and airheaded persona. "Was I doing something wrong?" she asked. "I kept driving because I thought you were following someone else."   
Six officers leapt from the police cars. All were either aliens or robots. All pointed guns at her.   
"Put your hands on the hood of the car!" one of them screamed. He had clearly been inspired by action movies.   
Rebecca pouted, not moving. "What did I do?" she asked, sounding confused. She was waiting for Gabriel to drive off.   
"Bitch, you broke about fifteen different laws! And at least two of them were Aku laws! Put your hands on the hood of the car!"   
"Well there's no need to be rude, regardless of whose laws they were!" She was trying her best not to sound too aggressive.   
Just then the Citroën took off at full speed, flying from the roof like an artillery shell. Perhaps to test this comparison, the officers let a few of their own bullets fly after it. Rebecca sighed with relief as the car got away, seemingly unharmed. 

As she was beaten, pepper-sprayed, cuffed and then finally thrown into the back of one of the police cars, Rebecca tried to look upon the whole incident as simply one of the inconveniences it was necessary to face in the process of seducing a celebrity. 

CHAPTER 4

  
Jack was very surprised to wake up. He had been certain when he passed out in Rebecca's car that it would be the last thing he would ever see. His eyes scanned the room. It had never occurred to him that heaven would be owned by a gay college student. He tried to sit up, but found himself too weak to do so. He resigned himself to just laying there.   
He was in a small, messy livingroom. Various books and papers were strewn about. Stacks of DVDs surrounded the TV. Feather boas and strange hats were spread out on a table. Blood-soaked towels and sheets littered the floor. Music was playing in a nearby room.   
"Is someone there?" he asked aloud.   
A moment passed before he heard the sound of someone scurrying towards him. Next thing he knew, a young man with long unkempt blonde hair, wearing thin glasses was looming over him. His hair was damp, like he'd just gotten out of the shower.   
"You're awake!"   
"Yes," said Jack. "Who are you?"   
The man adjusted his glasses. "My name's Gabriel. Rebecca, my sister, left you here. Well, sort of. Either way, you're safe."   
"What happened to me?"   
"Well. When she brought you here, you were unconscious, which is not surprising considering how much blood you lost. Trying to help you was... quite an adventure. I'm still a couple years away from my _medicinae doctor_, but I think I did a reasonably good job on you, didn't I? How are you feeling, by the way?"   
Jack did not answer, but rather tried to sit himself up.   
"I don't recommend you do that," said Gabriel, "You're not in great shape right now. I would... I would advise you to take it easy for at least a couple of days, till we know everything is going to be fine."   
"I do not have time for that. I must leave immediately," Jack said weakly.   
"I doubt you're even capable. Look, just stay put for now. I imagine you must be hungry. I'll fix something for you. Let's see... um, do you like Pop Tarts?"   
Jack looked confused. "What?"   
"Never had one? Well, I'll heat some up. I don't know anyone who doesn't like them, I can't imagine you'd be an exception."   
At that, Gabriel disappeared from Jack's sight. The Samurai could hear him moving around in what was presumably the kitchen, singing along in a beautiful countertenor to the music which still played in the other room.   
"_...I could say 'bella, bella,' even say 'wunderbar.' Each language only helps me tell you how grand you are_..."   
It took some effort, but Jack finally managed to sit up. He grimaced from the pain, for though he was bandaged, stitched and sealed up, his body had undergone quite a bit of damage. Gabriel raced back to his side.   
"Easy there. Do you want a pillow or something? I'm sorry I didn't think of it last night, but I was under some considerable stress. You're the first person I've had to treat." He chuckled slightly. "I don't suppose you want any Botox injections? Those I can do with no trouble at all."   
Jack grew even more confused. "No, thank you. I will be fine."   
Gabriel returned to the kitchen. After a moment he called back: "What do you want in your coffee?"   
Coffee was an item the Samurai was familiar with, due to the time he had spent in Arabia. Though he hadn't thought very highly of it when he was eight years old, he was willing to give it a second try. He wracked his brain, attempting to recall what people put in coffee. His final response left poor Gabriel somewhat taken aback.   
"Amber," he said.   
Gabriel paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond.   
"Ah... how about I just put some sugar in it for you."   
Just then there was a knock on the front door. Gabriel frowned, uncertain of whom it was. He answered cautiously. To his relief, it was his sister.   
"Rebecca! I thought you were arrested!"   
The chemical stench of her freshly applied hairspray was strong as she entered the room, wearing a long blue dress and a large white hat. With the exception of a just-noticeable limp, none of the previous night's travails were apparent on her face nor her body. "Donald came and bailed me out at about five AM. Fortunately he still doesn't know what I did to his car. You and I are going to have to sink that thing into the Seine later. But since all the evidence was in there, the cops don't have much to hold me on. How's Jack?"   
"He's awake," said Gabriel, smiling.   
"Oh, good!" She stepped quickly forward. "Jack! You're okay! I was worried about you last night."   
"I apologize," Jack said tediously.   
Rebecca started to laugh. "Ah! Isn't he adorable?"   
At that moment the toaster chimed, signaling that the pastries were ready to be eaten. Gabriel ran to get them.   
"I was just making breakfast," he said, directing his words at Rebecca. "Do you want some?"  
"I'll take some coffee," she said, trying to peer into the kitchen and see what he had made.   
He returned to the livingroom holding two Pop Tarts and a napkin, which he promptly handed to Jack.   
"Oh, heaven," she said, "You're not actually giving him Pop Tarts are you?"   
"What's wrong?" asked Gabriel, lingering at the sofa.   
"How can you feed him that trash? Couldn't you make him some real food?"   
"I lived off of these my whole freshmen year. It's fine, trust me; I'm a Ph.D."   
Jack accepted the strange lozenges of bread and artificial frosting and eyed them suspiciously. Hesitantly, he raised one to his mouth and took a very small bite. Immediately he wondered how something could be so good and yet so utterly vile simultaneously.   
"We went back to the apartment," Rebecca began, changing the subject. "It doesn't actually look that bad. Once Donald gets the window replaced it should be fine."   
Gabriel began to pass out mugs of coffee. "What happened to your apartment?"   
"Didn't I tell you? It was those same guys that shot Jack. They came looking for him in my apartment."   
"Wait, what was he doing in your apartment?"   
"He was staying there while he was waiting for a new kimono thingy. That's why he's almost naked. Didn't you notice?"   
"Wait... he showed up naked at your apartment?"   
"Forgive my interruption," said Jack, trying again to move from the sofa, "But as we are on the subject, did the lady at the shop not indicate that my gi would be finished by now?"   
"She did," said Rebecca, "But surely you don't plan on going there in your condition?"   
"I fear that I must. I require my gi before I can continue on my journey."   
Gabriel sighed. "I really must advise against it. You nearly died last night, in fact it's only due to a series of remarkable coincidences that you didn't."   
"I thank you for your concern," Jack replied, "But I have faced death many times before, and I expect this will not be the final instance."   
"Look, I know you are a busy man," said Gabriel, "But you've been badly injured, and -- I am sorry to say -- you were not treated under the most sanitary conditions, or by the most qualified of physicians. If you should get an infection, or if something else were to go wrong, it would be best for you to be here when it does, so that it could be handled most effectively."   
Jack responded by standing up. The task took some obvious effort, and it required even more for him to conceal how much pain it caused.   
"I... will be fine," he said, obviously strained.   
Rebecca sighed. "I really didn't think you'd be up to going out. Donald took my Peugeot to that thing he has to go to..."   
"I think most people call it 'work,'" Gabriel said.   
"No, no. It's that other thing he does. That thing where they all dress up like dorks and act like fuck-ups..."   
"SCA?"   
"I think that's it. Except the letters are all different. But it's almost the same thing. It has three of them." She returned her attentions to Jack. "Anyway... I took a cab here. If I'm going to take you to Djinny's then that means..." she sighed forlornly. "Ah, hell..." 

The damaged Citroën zoomed through the air, high above the streets, across the city. Halfway to their destination the driver's-side door fell off, an event which did not surprise anyone in the slightest. 

At the dress shop, Djinny was in mourning. Three of her friends had been killed the previous evening. For the occasion she was clothed in a floor-length gold lamé skirt, slit up each side, and a bodice made from fourteen yards of expertly draped black ribbon.   
Her face lit up like a Paulin lantern when the two weary figures came through the door. The Famous Samurai Jack looked like he had been through a typhoon. He was pale and shaken and did not move with his customary grace. Further evidence of the previous night's misadventure was provided by the obvious bloodstains on his white fundoshi. Rebecca stayed dutifully at his side.   
"Hey there, Djinny," she said, unenthusiastic. "Is that kimono thing ready?"   
Djinny nodded. "Glad to see you again. Looks like you had a bit of a situation since last time."   
"I guess you could say that," answered Rebecca.   
"Well," said Djinny, standing up, "Why don't you two sit down. The kimono's in the back; I'll just go get it for you."   
Rebecca and Jack did as suggested, taking the chairs nearest to the counter. Djinny retreated to the back area of the shop.   
"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Rebecca asked.   
"Yes, I believe so."   
"Because I don't want to send you out again if you're too badly injured to even protect yourself."   
"It is simply a matter of staying out of trouble for a few days. I think I will manage."   
Rebecca nodded. "By the way... I think I should apologize for my behavior yesterday. You know, taking you back to my apartment and not mentioning that I was married..."   
Jack smiled. "It is forgotten. And I must thank you for saving my life."   
Rebecca smiled back. "Well, I didn't do all the work. If Gabriel had..." her smile suddenly began to fade. "...What... Dj... Djinny?"   
She was staring at something over his shoulder. Jack turned to find Djinny, positioned behind the counter with a humungous sub-machine gun aimed right for his head.   
"I'm sorry about this, both of you," she said. "But it really is a lot of money."   
Rebecca's eyes widened in realization. "No one else knew Jack was with me. You were the one that sent the bounty hunters to my apartment!"   
"That's right. They were friends of mine."   
"Djinny! How _could_ you? This man -- he's going to save the world from Aku!"   
"I know, I know. But everyone has their price. Even though mine is terribly high, Aku still managed to meet it. Rebecca, do you realize what a googolplex is? A googol is one followed by a hundred zeros. A googolplex is one followed by a googol zeros. You see my problem. It would be kind of nice to live in a world without Aku, I'll admit, but with that kind of money..."   
"Oh, Djinny. I expected better of you."   
"Come on, Rebecca. Don't pretend you aren't at least slightly interested. Tell you what: you help me make the delivery, I'll split the money with you. Fifty-fifty."   
Rebecca raised her eyebrows. "Fifty-fifty?"   
Djinny nodded. "No need to be greedy when there's plenty to go 'round."   
Rebecca sighed. She looked over at Jack, who had not moved throughout the entire exchange. His face was completely devoid of expression. If someone were looking very closely, they might have noticed his hands moving ever so slightly, working to reach his sword in the most discreet fashion possible.   
Though Rebecca did not see this, it wouldn't have affected her answer in the first place: "No."   
She said it firmly, rising from her chair. "There's no way. I did not go out last night, hijack two ambulances, rob a medical school, destroy a car, get brutalized by the police, and have sex with a guy named Face to save this man just so you could turn him over to Aku."   
Djinny altered her countenance. "Eww. Not _Face_ Face? That nasty old hobo?"   
Before Rebecca could answer in the affirmative, Jack sprang into action, drawing his sword and leaping into the air. He let out a battle cry that would send Placido Domingo into fits of jealousy. The two women gaped.   
Just as Jack was about to land on her, Djinny recovered her senses and pulled the trigger on her gun. To her surprise nothing happened.   
"Ah, shit!" she cried, realizing the problem. She had left on the safety.   
As she fumbled with the device, trying to fix the problem, the blade of the Jack's sword flashed by. The gun landed on the carpet with a dull thud. Djinny's top right hand bounced off the wall and slid harmlessly to the floor.   
The blue alien screamed angrily as purple blood gushed from the stump of her wrist. "You little shit! It'll take like six months for that to grow back!" Enraged, she began to search for another weapon. She located on her desk a letter opener and a ball-point pen. Using her good hands, she grabbed for them.   
Seeing this, Jack managed to prevent her from obtaining the letter opener, which to him seemed the more dangerous of the two items. Unfortunately Djinny still had the pen at her disposal, and with all the strength she could muster, she used it to impale the Samurai's wrist. He let out a small cry.   
Rebecca jumped at the sound of her hero in distress, and instantly she set about finding means to end the situation. She ran around the room like a headless chicken as she searched for some kind of weaponry to use in his defense. Meanwhile, Jack and Djinny grappled at the desk. Although he was considerably weakened by the previous night's events, Djinny was fortunately not very strong. However, she did have other advantages. When she finally decided that she had had enough of wrestling about with the Samurai, Djinny put a swift, unpleasant end to the brawl by taking her most obvious advantage and brutally slamming her knee into Jack's groin. His eyes widened in pain and shock, and he collapsed to the floor.   
The alien saw her chance and began running to retrieve her gun. She did not notice Rebecca sneak up behind her holding a chair. Although it took Rebecca two false starts, she did at last succeed in swinging the item against Djinny's head, leaving the chair broken and the alien lying in a puddle of purple blood. 

Jack's wrist was bound with a scrap of gold fabric stolen from Djinny's shop, and he was back in the Citroën with Rebecca, sputtering across the sky. Rebecca explained her current plan.   
"We'll stop by Gabriel's house again, since being stabbed through the wrist can't be good for you, and then, I suppose, we'll take it from there."   
"It is not necessary," said Jack.   
"Sure it is."   
Jack sighed with despondent agitation. "I suppose the woman never really constructed my gi."   
"I doubt it. But don't worry; last night, when I was with Donald--"   
Just then the car jolted, the result of a minor accident. Rebecca had never been first-class at driving carefully, and she presumed it must have been her fault. She looked in the cracked remains of the rear-view mirror to see if the other driver was going to make her pull over. She was suddenly struck with a sensation like her cardiovascular system had been switched into overdrive.   
"Oh, fucking hell," she said, adrenaline levels rising. "It's Djinny!"   
Jack turned to look. Sitting in the front seat of a gorgeous yellow Ferrari was Djinny, glaring forward, purple blood running down her face. She floored the gas a second time, knocking the sad little Citroën frontward a few more feet.   
Rebecca tried not to panic. "Okay, let's see... I've got it. Hold on, Jack, things are going to get crazy. Oh, and buckle your seatbelt. We don't have a windshield."   
Rebecca floored the gas and switched gears, sending her car speeding away. The Ferrari followed suit.   
The Citroën began to drift downwards, weaving through the maze of cars, hoping to lose its stalker. There was only one advantage the Citroën had over the Ferrari, and that was its diminutive size. Rebecca used this to her fullest advantage as she rapidly descended through each layer of autos like a scuba diver through schools of fish, hoping to lose sight of the big yellow shark which nevertheless managed to stay close behind.   
The ground was getting closer. At the last possible second Rebecca jerked the stick upward, preventing the car from crashing into the asphalt. She hoped that Djinny might not be able to copy the move and that her car would go crumpling into the pavement, but it was not to be. Rebecca cursed under her breath. Her car was already coughing along at top speed. There was no way that she could out-race the Ferrari. She began to frantically search for a small alleyway or other narrow space she could squeeze through.   
Jack seemed to read her mind. In perfect minimalist fashion he directed her attention to a public garden with a very narrow pathway surrounded by trees. It was intended for foot traffic only. Rebecca turned the car so quickly that it almost caved in on itself and sent it sputtering toward the cobblestone path.   
The Ferrari halted on a dust particle and hovered in midair like a hummingbird while the driver tried to decide her next move. Even for her small and aerodynamic car, the path was too narrow and canopied by bay trees, preventing any possibility that she could even follow from above. Djinny's black painted lips twisted into a terrible snarl. She forced the car straight upwards, not caring one bit about the mess she was making in traffic, and began to wait. The little grey car would have to emerge at some point. She could wait till then. 

Jack gazed out the window as Rebecca drove.   
"You should stop," he said plainly.   
"Why?" she asked.   
"Because your friend is waiting for us to come out. Her yellow car is very easy to see, even through all the trees."   
"But if we stop, won't she just park her car and come for us on foot?"   
"If that is the case, we can easily drive away. But I do not think that she can see us."   
Rebecca agreed and turned the car off, causing it to sink to the ground. Here she was, alone in a parked car with The Famous Samurai Jack. She decided that she would use this opportunity and attempt to strike up an amorous conversation, hoping that all the excitement and her impressive skill in saving him might have moved the steadfast rock. She smiled her most delectable smile and placed her hands on her hips, trying to accentuate her small waist. She began to chatter with the jaded statue beside her. 

CHAPTER 5

  
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.   
Djinny began to wonder if she had missed the Citroën's exit. It was such a small car, and the color blended well with the concrete; combined with the distractions she was forced to deal with, such as the cars weaving around her and honking...   
"Damn." She must have missed it. But hopefully her chance for riches was not yet over. She just had to figure out where they would have gone. Her cerulean fingers gripped the gear-shift and thrust the vehicle into sixth. The car shot off like a comet into the sky. 

Jack felt strangely relaxed, though his wrist still hurt, his body ached and he was experiencing substantial fatigue. Gazing out from the remains of the car, he could see the leaves of the bay trees above him rustling, the streams of cars over that zipping by, and against the pale, smoggy blue of the sky, the one yellow car which stood stagnant. He was achieving a near-meditative state. Meanwhile Rebecca continued to talk at him, but he had stopped listening to her twenty minutes ago.   
After a quick Zen venture, he saw the yellow car drive off into the distance.   
"Did she leave?" asked Rebecca.   
"Yes."   
"Let's go then."   
Jack said nothing. Rebecca began to drive again, the car puttering through the streets of the city.   
Rebecca bit her lip. "Do you think that going to Gabriel's again might be a bad idea? If someone were to follow us, I doubt he would appreciate it."   
Jack nodded in agreement. "I am not badly injured. If you were to leave me now, I would be able to manage."   
Rebecca smiled. "That's what you said this morning."   
Jack sighed, mildly frustrated. "I think perhaps I ought to leave this place. I merely came here for a new gi, and as it seems I will not be able to obtain one--"   
"Uh-oh. Don't look now, Jack. I see a certain yellow car right in front of us."   
Indeed, there it was, several cars ahead, looking to change lanes. Rebecca began trying to get out of sight without attracting any attention. Slowly, she began sinking the car into a lower lane.   
Too slowly. Djinny saw them, just through the corner of her eye. Her engine suddenly roared back to life and she came flying toward them in reverse.   
Rebecca screamed as Djinny slammed into her at 60 mph. The poor little Citroën didn't take the blow well. The Ferrari pulled forward then slammed into reverse a second time. The metal of Rebecca's car groaned as it was further compacted.   
Djinny rolled down her window. "You'd be better off landing the car on your own, 'stead of waiting for me to send you crashing!"   
"Fuck you, Djinny!" was Rebecca's reply. She stepped on the gas and went into reverse at top speed.   
Djinny rushed after, also in reverse, beginning one of the most interesting car chases the city had seen all week. 

Machines were bad enough. Flying was bad enough. Driving with Rebecca was bad enough. But zipping around at top speed in reverse, in a car with no windows and no door, dodging and weaving, barely missing other cars was a bit much for the Samurai. Whenever his eyes managed to work their way open, he always found the yellow car to be closer than before. Next to him, Rebecca was muttering curses in some foreign language. The sound was almost soothing.   
Exhibiting a surprising amount of skill, Rebecca maneuvered the ruined car through the ancient streets, over the tops of Akuvian skyscrapers and finally, over the river.The car jolted as the Ferrari smashed into it once again. This time the rhythmic sputtering of the Citroën's engine began to slow down. Rebecca gasped.   
"Oh, shit! Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit..."   
She tried to restart the car, only to find it rammed once more by the Ferrari. This time the engine stopped completely. Rebecca shrieked something in French. The little grey car began to plummet rapidly from the sky, headed in a nose-dive for the river Seine. Rebecca recalled some educational program she had been watching late at night which claimed that from a high distance, the impact of hitting water is the same as the impact of hitting concrete. She began to scream.   
"Oh God, we're dead, oh God..."   
The Samurai, moving like a torpedo, tore his seatbelt free and then began working to release the petrified Rebecca. Once her strap went zipping off he grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her out the opening that had once held the driver's-side door. Next thing she knew, she and Jack had landed on the roof of a red Autozam Scizum, which was heading away from Djinny and her Ferrari at about 95 mph. 

Djinny growled. "Dammit! Dammit dammit!"   
She was still not ready to give up. Her remaining right hand thrust the gearshift back and her gold Grecian-style sandal slammed the gas pedal into the floor. The yellow Ferrari was sent zooming forward. At least now she didn't have to drive in reverse.   
Thoughtlessly, she turned up the volume of her radio. A perky Japanese pop song came blasting forth, filling the car with its excessive jollity. It brightened Djinny's spirits some. She began to sing along:   
"_Kiss! Kiss! Bang! Bang!_" 

Rebecca and Jack gripped the luggage rack as tightly as they could, trying not to let the wind blow them off of the car. Rebecca's hat went soaring into the distance. She glanced after it, her eyes watering heavily to prevent them from drying out in the intense wind. She cried out in dismay at what she saw.   
"God damn! Does Djinny never give up?"   
"Apparently not," said Jack, yelling over the wind and traffic. "We must find someplace that is not accessible by car, such as a building." He recalled last night's incident with the bounty hunters. "A very sturdy building. Otherwise she will only follow us until we are too exhausted to run."   
Rebecca nodded. Clinging tightly to the luggage rack with one hand, she bent over the side of the roof and knocked on the Autozam's driver's-side window.   
The window unrolled, releasing the sounds of Jorge Negrete blasting from the radio within. A confused looking 50-ish man stuck his head out.   
"Hi," Rebecca shouted, trying to be heard over the wind. "Don't bother stopping."   
The man frowned. He was perplexed, but he had learned to deal with all sorts of insanity as if it were perfectly normal; he was a gallery attendant in a modern art museum.   
"I had wondered what that thud on the roof of my car was," he responded, his eyes darting back and forth between Rebecca and the traffic.   
"What's your name?"   
"Raoul. And you?"   
"Rebecca. Monsieur Raoul, I have a huge favor to ask."   
"Shoot."   
"My friend and I had a bit of car trouble a mile or so back. Do you think you can get us to a Metro station as quickly as possible?"   
"No problem."   
"Super! I owe you one."   
With that, Rebecca slid back onto the roof of the car. "He's taking us to the Metro," she told Jack. "We should be able to lose track of Djinny there."   
Two minutes later the windburned couple was dropped at the Metro. Jack had the courtesy to offer Raoul a quick thank-you before taking off. Even as he did so, he could see the yellow car through the corner of his eye, approaching rapidly.   
Just as Jack and Rebecca disappeared into the underground, Djinny stopped her Ferrari in front of the station, slamming the brakes so abruptly that the car spun, knocking out a fire-hydrant and almost killing three people. It came at last to a halt parked diagonally across the sidewalk, the back bumper resting on the blacktop street.   
The pretty celestial-hued alien leapt from the front seat, her gold stilettos clicking loudly on the pavement as she scampered down to the Metro, her FAMAS G2 SMG assault rifle in tow, her gold lamé skirts trailing behind her. 

Rebecca and Jack raced through the station. Lacking the time to buy tickets, they were forced to jump the barriers. Instantly they found no less than three uniformed guards on their tails. All they could do was try to ignore them.   
Since Jack and Rebecca had no particular destination in mind, they ran rather aimlessly from platform to platform, trying to find one where a train was already waiting. As they did so, the security guards began to gain on them. Rebecca felt someone grab her arm.   
"Stop right there!"   
She turned to face the guard. He looked like he might be the same species of alien as Djinny: an Erebyan.   
"Ticket, please," he said, sounding surprisingly casual, if breathless.   
Rebecca shook her head. "There's no time for that! Can't you tell that someone is following us?"   
"In that case, you two had better come to the office--"   
"Waitaminute," quod one guard, this one apparently a robot. "I think I recognize that man..."   
The security guards froze. Jack tried not to appear too uncomfortable as they all began to stare at him. He braced himself for another fight.   
"By God," one of them finally said, "He's right! Mr. Samurai Jack; how can we be of help?"   
Jack and Rebecca exhaled simultaneously. These security guards were on their side.   
"Forgive me," said Jack, a bit impatiently but still trying to be polite, "But we are in a hurry. It is most important that we keep moving."   
"Oh, of course, of course!"   
"Where are you trying to go?" asked the robot.   
"Any train that is available for immediate boarding."   
"Ah! Blue Line should be arriving right now. If you--"   
Rebecca suddenly squealed in panic. "There's Djinny! Quick! Run!"   
In the blink of an eye Jack and Rebecca were racing down the corridors of the station. The guards turned to find a petite extra-terrestrial stumbling wearily down the stairs. Being that all of them were fans of the Samurai, they decided to help him now.   
"Pardon me, miss," the robot said, approaching Djinny. "May I see your ticket?"   
Djinny sighed at best she could, considering that she was out of breath. "You gotta be kidding."   
"Sorry, miss," he said, "But we've been having some trouble today with people sneaking past the barriers without tickets."   
Unlike Jack and Rebecca, Djinny had stopped to get a ticket. "Here," she said, grudgingly handing it over.   
The robot took it and began to examine it. "Hm... are you certain that you bought this from an official vendor? It looks a bit off..."   
Djinny frowned. "Look. I'm in a real hurry. There's two people that stole my purse, and I just cashed my paycheck. I really need to catch up with them."   
"They must have been pretty tough if they could steal your purse while you've got that thing!" the other Erebyan said, indicating her gun.   
Djinny's frown deepened. She held out the bloody stump at the end of her upper right arm where her hand should have been. "For God's sake, look what they did to me!"   
"Really now? Well, then, come to the office with us. We'll help you file a report."   
Djinny wasn't given time to respond before the three guards grabbed her and began to drag her away. 

CHAPTER 6

  
At last the doors closed and the train began to speed out of the station. Rebecca took the opportunity to try and learn precisely where it was they were going. Not finding any maps posted on the facing wall, she turned in the hope that there might be one behind her. What she saw very nearly caused her heart to leap out of her chest. Eyes wide and adrenaline surging, she turned back and tried to pretend as if nothing had happened.   
Jack observed his fangirl's sudden unease and twisted around so that he might discover the cause. He came face to face with his own image: a wanted poster. His reaction was the same as Rebecca's. Nothing could be said. The car was so quiet, even a whisper would be audible to anyone sitting nearby. At least no one seemed to have made the connection so far. Perhaps he would be fortunate and no one would recognize him without his hat.   
A couple of minutes passed without event. Then a short, turquoise alien possessing a somewhat cylindrical figure rose from her seat and moved toward Jack. She was an Acuwaereas. She had been comparing the pale, half-naked, heavily bandaged man before her with the printed sketch of the infamous Samurai Jack ever since the moment they left the station. Although the man in the poster was more slender and bore a countenance like a scowling Kabuki actor, she felt certain that it was the same man.   
Timidly standing before the Samurai she asked: "Sir? I'm sorry to bother you, but... are you who I think you are?"   
Jack looked the little alien over. She seemed so sweet and innocent. The creature's large eyes peered up at him hopefully. It was that same look Rebecca had worn during their first meeting. The Samurai could not help but smile; he said nothing.   
"It is you. Isn't it?"   
Another, less friendly looking being sitting within earshot was now staring at Jack even more intensely than before. Rebecca could see what was happening and tried to come up with some way of detracting the little alien's attentions. She laughed.   
"Ha ha ha! Oh, he gets that all the time. It's really amazing."   
The little alien's expression changed to confusion. "You mean it's not him?"   
"No, it is not 'him.' If it were, he'd be busy trying to fight off bounty hunters right now."   
The alien wasn't terribly sharp, and didn't catch what Rebecca had been trying to imply. "So..." she asked, still a bit confused, "Then what's with the sword?"   
Rebecca and Jack both frowned and glanced down at the sword hanging from his heavily blood-stained fundoshi. Now just about everyone in the car was staring at them.   
She paused, trying to come up with a good explanation. "We're not used to taking public transportation."   
"Oh, I understand," the alien responded sympathetically. "I remember the first time I took a subway. I was so afraid I was going to get mugged -- Oh, it was ridiculous, I tell you!"   
Rebecca laughed. At least she seemed to have gotten the creature off the subject. "I know. It's so silly, I'll admit it."   
The turquoise alien began to chatter about the safety of the local subway cars. Jack paid no attention, focusing instead on a conversation occurring about thirteen feet away.   
"... Samurai Jack. She's saying... ... ... ... but I think ... ..."   
"Should we ... ... ... ... right now? The cars are so small."   
"He won't be able to escape though. We won't ... ... advantage..."   
Jack couldn't understand every word they said, but those which he could distinguish gave him cause for concern. He reached for his sword and stood up, not drawing the weapon just yet.   
"Forgive me," he said to Rebecca. "But I think I would prefer another seat. Feel free to remain where you are."   
Rebecca took a moment to let his meaning sink in. "Oh. Of course."   
Jack drifted over to the most unpopulated area of the car. If he was going to be forced to fight, he didn't want to worry about any mishaps involving innocent bystanders.   
"Was it something I said?" asked the little turquoise alien.   
"No, but I would suggest you leave him alone for now."   
"Let me guess," the alien whispered politely. "He gets motion sickness when he's near the back?"   
Meanwhile, as Jack had expected, three aliens came sauntering toward him. The largest was an avocado-hued reptilian creature called an Uktuf. Following a few inches behind him was a smaller species, an Ovurnyat. The third slab of beef was a carnation colored, ever-scowling creature of the Rikyg race.   
The Uktuf stood in front of him. "So. You're just some guy who looks exactly like Samurai Jack and carries a sword?"   
"I cannot deny that," answered Jack.   
"Looks like you got some pretty nasty injuries," said the Rikyg. "How did that happen?"   
"An unfortunate encounter with some men who wanted money."   
"Really? That's very interesting." The Uktuf was now speaking again. "See, we want money also. And the word going around is that last night, Samurai Jack was rather badly injured in a little misadventure. I went downtown this morning; you can still see the blood on the concrete."   
"I am aware of these events."   
"Good. Now, it has occurred to us that, if we were to run into Samurai Jack today, considering how badly injured he is, he might want to just come along with us peacefully, since the odds are not in his favor."   
"I imagine he would find that idea rather foolish, since upon being delivered to Aku he would surely be killed anyway."   
The Uktuf smiled and nodded slightly. "Have it your way."   
In an instant all three aliens had their weapons drawn. The Uktuf had managed to conceal a rather large gun, while the Ovurnyat bore a small pistol. The Rikyg, meanwhile, produced a handful of sharp objects ranging from large bowie knives to ice picks.   
Jack was on the ceiling before the creatures even had time to take aim. Startled, they looked up only to have their faces become intimately acquainted with his wooden sandals.   
At the start of the commotion Rebecca and the Acuwaereas retreated to the very back of the car. Observing her hero's plight, Rebecca began to count the number of creatures that seemed intent on attacking him. Besides the three that he was already dealing with, five more were menacing their way toward him. Rebecca felt that things were about to get ugly.   
As Jack noticed the other five creatures coming toward him, he began to wish that he had listened to Gabriel's advice and stayed in; he was really in no shape for this.   
Trying to forget how weak and pained he felt, he drew his sword and affected a threatening posture. A few of the creatures seemed to react; he could see them begin to slow and hesitate. Perhaps they had been hoping that he would come along peacefully. No such luck. In situations like this, the Samurai was always prepared to fight to the death.   
In three gestures he exterminated one robotic creature, its Japan-made pieces clanging loudly to the floor. He narrowly ducked away from a crack aimed at his head by the Rikyg at the same instant as something came sweeping across the floor, trying to knock his legs out from under him. That too was dodged. However, the third attack in under a second was a bit much for him; a large fist came crashing into his already injured side. The impact tore open healing skin and sent him toppling to the ground. He got to his feet again quickly, though not effortlessly. The damage inflicted could easily be seen by everyone in the subway car as blood began soaking into his bandages.   
Trying not to show weakness, Jack violently swung his sword the direction of the creature that had hit him. It was a bizarre thing with a spider-like head. Impact was made, and the blade sliced neatly though the monster's corpulent torso. White blood stained Jack's sword: Six more to go.   
Now the Uktuf took action, suddenly firing his gun madly. The upholstery on the seats tattered, window shattered, and two of the other bounty hunters ended up dead. Jack had little time to appreciate the unintentional favor, since the Ovurnyat then took the chance to use its own gun, pressing it into the Samurai's back.   
"One more move and I blow out your spine," it said.   
Jack sighed. As per the request, he did not move. The other three surviving bounty hunters began to close in on him. One of them, a huge purple beast, wrenched the sword from his hands. The other creatures began to close in on him, striking and tearing at him like some kind of nightmare. The Ovurnyat remained still, never moving its gun from his vertebra.   
Across the car, Rebecca watched in horror as her hero was trapped by the writhing mass of aliens. She had to help him somehow. A distraction was needed.   
Instantly, with such speed and ease that one would think occult means had somehow been involved, Rebecca managed to remove her bra without misplacing her dress in the slightest. She then tossed the garment at the awestruck aliens.   
To her disappointment, Jack was also gaping right along with them. And she only had one more garment she could do this with. Hoping that the Samurai would be able to snap himself out of it, Rebecca echoed the trick using her panties. She stopped herself from cursing aloud as Jack's battered face remained fixated on her. If only he had reacted so well when she was trying to have sex with him.   
Lost for any other ideas, she took a bow. At that, all the bounty hunters, including the Ovurnyat, began to applaud.   
As soon as Jack felt the cold metal of the gun removed from his back, he realized his chance. Not wasting another second, he took action, and kicked away the Ovurnyat. He scrambled for a more open space.   
The Rikyg got an idea in his head to take a hostage, hoping that it might subdue the Samurai. Seeing Rebecca standing nearby, he went for her.   
Finding herself grabbed by the alien, Rebecca reacted by raking her nails across his face. The Rikyg screamed in agony as blood and aqueous humor poured down his face. Blinded thus, he no longer made a nuisance of himself.   
Jack looked around for the big purple alien, a Siuol, who had taken his sword. He spotted the creature, who had wisely placed himself behind the much larger and more heavily armed Uktuf.   
And then there was that damned Ovurnyat, still clutching its pistol, trying to aim right for the Samurai's head. Thinking that it had a clear shot, it fired. The bullet snapped Jack's hairstick in two, sending his dark hair cascading down around his shoulders. The window behind him shattered.   
At the opposite end of the car, Rebecca watched intently, looking for any way that she might be able to assist Jack in surviving until the next station. The turquoise alien watched in confusion.   
"What's going on?" it asked.   
"He's in trouble," Rebecca said automatically. "There's got to be some way to help him..."   
"And you said that it's _not_ Samurai Jack?"   
"I lied."   
The turquoise alien's jaw dropped. "Well good heavens! They can't do that to Samurai Jack!"   
The sweet little alien who didn't look capable of harming a fly suddenly leapt into the air and went sailing across the car, its mouth opened wide enough to consume a skyscraper. She landed like an executioner's mask on the Siuol's head and closed her teeth around his thick neck. Rebecca watched half stunned, half annoyed that the little alien hadn't chosen to take out the far more dangerous Uktuf or even the Ovurnyat. That job, it seemed, would be left to her. Trying to put on a brave face, she charged full speed at the Uktuf, who had paused to reload his machine gun. She crashed into him at a whopping 6 mph, achieving nothing. The Uktuf glared at her. Rebecca then did the next thing that her adrenaline-altered brain told her was sensible; she grabbed the Uktuf's gun.   
Elsewhere, Jack was doing much the same thing with the Ovurnyat. As he tried to wrench the gun from the creatures slimy hands, the agitated Ovurnyat began fighting back, refusing to let go. They soon found themselves flailing about on the filthy orange linoleum floor, each with one hand on the pistol. Jack tried to push his opponent away by its large, corrugated face. The Ovurnyat was going for a more Machiavellian approach, punching Jack in the stomach which it already knew to be a weak spot. Jack tried not to let it get to him.   
It is written that there is a fine line between bravery and stupidity. Rebecca DuMont felt as if she were balancing herself like a tightrope walker right on top of it. She had both hands on the Uktuf's gun; it was just a matter of getting him to release his grip.   
The aggravated Uktuf tried to push her away, but she clung to the weapon as if it were epoxy glued to her skin. With her legs she began stomping the recumbent body of the Ovurnyat.   
Being repeatedly booted in the ribs was not something that the Ovurnyat enjoyed. In truth, the Samurai was doing less to annoy it. It jerked the gun so that it was aimed at Rebecca then cursed in its native tongue upon discovering that Jack was in control of the trigger.   
Rebecca witnessed the commotion and employed one of the few martial arts moves she learned in her beginning Ninjitsu class. Keeping her leg straight she kicked the mismatched pair of hands grasping the gun. Jack and the Ovurnyat each felt a sharp pain across their hand and instinctively loosened their grips. The gun went sailing into the air, finally bouncing off of a wall and landing on one of the seats.   
Now with both hands free, the fight between him and the Ovurnyat really began to heat up. The creature gripped Jack's neck within its own oversized hands and began to squeeze.   
The Samurai could recall being told that if ever someone tried to choke him, the thing to do was turn his head. Unfortunately, the position of the Ovurnyat's hands did not allow for it. Jack briefly considered faking it and pretending to pass out in hopes that the Ovurnyat wouldn't realize the unlikelihood of strangling someone to death in under a minute. But he decided against it, going instead for what was in his opinion the far better plan of striking the creature a merciless hand-chop right on its neck. The move usually startled an opponent thoroughly enough to make them back off.   
As soon as the edge of Jack's hand slammed into the Ovurnyat's throat, the creature began to gag and cough. It released its grip on the Samurai's neck.   
Jack scrambled to his feet, lacking his usual grace due to injury. If nothing else, he was glad to be off of that disgusting floor, covered in broken glass, motor oil and alien blood.   
With the Ovurnyat gasping for air on the ground, and both the Uktuf and the Siuol distracted, Jack thought it seemed like a good opportunity to retrieve his sword. The Siuol still held it, trying to use it to pry the little Acuwaereas off of its neck. The Samurai retrieved his weapon with no difficulty.   
Just as he turned, planning to save Rebecca from the Uktuf who seemed to have gained the upper hand, a shot was fired. The bullet came so close that the Samurai could feel it rustle his hair. He looked at the Ovurnyat, who had managed to retrieve its pistol and knock off a shot in the mere two seconds since he had turned his back.   
Jack ducked just in time to miss the second bullet. A quick mathematical calculation was performed in his head, and he aimed his blade forward, the tip of his sword just puncturing the Ovurnyat's stomach. Black blood splattered the floor. Jack leaned in, skewering the bounty hunter like a shish kabob against the wall. Still clinging to life and the hopes of two googolplex, the Ovurnyat began firing his gun wildly in front of him.   
Rebecca knew she was about to die; the Uktuf had managed to wrench the gun away from her by dislocating a few of the bones in her hand. She was literally staring down the barrel. She closed her eyes, hoping that she would at least die quickly. It was as if she heard the shot in slow motion, for it seemed to radiate far too long. The Uktuf released his grip on her. After that, the sound of an automatic machine gun. No pain. No white light.   
She opened her eyes and discovered the truth of the situation: The Ovurnyat had missed its mark and hit the Uktuf. In retaliation, the Uktuf had abandoned her in favor of pumping the Ovurnyat full of lead.   
The corpse still stood upright, pinned to the wall by Jack's sword which, in the clamor, he had been forced to abandon. He leapt and tackled Rebecca, pushing her down to the filthy car floor.   
"What are you doing?" she asked in confusion.   
"You must stay away from that creature," said Jack.   
"What are you talking about?"   
Before Jack could answer, the Uktuf grabbed him from atop Rebecca, wrapping his thick fingers around the Samurai's throat. The gun's barrel was pushed into Jack's cheek. The alien held him with his feet dangling above the floor.   
"I got you now," spoke the Uktuf, "Won't be much longer before we get to Pantin. I'll be making a phone call to Aku's people as soon as we're there."   
Rebecca, still on the floor, wracked her brain for a solution. She happened to glance to her left. Amongst the mangled corpses she saw the blind Rikyg curled up against the seats, looking miserable. He still held in his hand the knife he had been pointing at Rebecca's neck just before she clawed his corneas off. She decided that he wouldn't mind if she borrowed it and grabbed the blade from his miserable hands.   
Slowly, almost pensively, she crawled across the floor, sleek and subtle as a cat. Once she was in reach, she violently slashed the Uktuf across his leg. To her surprise, when she looked at the knife again she found the blade to be corroded, the metal eaten away like some ancient artifact. She didn't have much time to contemplate this, for soon her desire was granted; the Uktuf thoughtlessly released Jack and spun around towards her.   
"Bitch! You got some kinda death wish?"   
Behind the Uktuf's back, Jack yanked his sword out of the stagnant Ovurnyat's corpse. Raising the weapon over his head, he yelled: "Rebecca! Move away _now_!"   
Her mind gone blank, she pushed herself backward a couple of feet. The Uktuf tried to turn around and see what Jack was doing, but the instant he did so, something that felt like a helicopter rotor passed through his neck. He remained conscious as his head separated from the rest of his body and went flying across the car. He even had it in him to wince as he struck one of the few remaining windows and bounced to the floor.   
The last thought he had before it all went dark: That bastard!   
A few drops of the Uktuf's blood splashed Rebecca's dress. She gasped in horror as the fluid began to eat away the fabric.   
"It's acid!" she cried thoughtlessly. So that was why Jack kept telling her to get away from the creature. "How did you know?" she asked, looking up at him.   
Jack did not answer her question, though by looking at the splatter-pattern of necrosis on his right arm, it appeared that he had gotten sprayed with the stuff at some point during their fight.   
"I think there are more urgent matters to concern ourselves with," he said, pointing to the hole that was forming in the floor. A body as large as the Uktuf's held a lot of blood, and all of it seemed to be highly acidic. They could already see the half-rotted tracks flashing beneath the car. Before anything else could be said, Jack felt something seize him by the shoulders and pull him backward. It was the Siuol, having finally pried the Acuwaereas from his head. The poor little turquoise creature lay in the corner, dazed after being tossed there. Thoroughly startled by the attack, the Samurai dropped his sword. Right into the hole.   
The sound of the weapon clattering beneath the train seemed almost deafening to the horrified Samurai. Immediately he attempted to dive through the opening and go after it, but the Siuol was insisting upon a fight and held him back.   
"Not so tough without your sword, eh, Samurai?"   
Jack responded by punching the Siuol in the face.   
Rebecca was as concerned over the sword as Jack. She approached the hole a bit apprehensively, trying to make sure that she didn't touch the acid-blood by mistake or slip and be dragged to death underneath the speeding train. Cautiously she lay on her stomach, gripped the ledge as tightly as possible, and peered in.   
She could see it: the sword had gotten caught on some kind of electrical wiring under the car. It was being dragged blade down across the tracks, creating some magnificent sparks. She reached in, trying to grab it, but the angle was too extreme and her arm too short. She sighed.   
"You're insane, Rebecca. You know this." The hole was just big enough at this point for her petite frame to squeeze through. It looked like there were enough pipes and wires for her to creep along and grab onto, and the sword wasn't too far off. She just had to pray that her muscles would hold out that long.   
In the meantime, Jack and the Siuol struggled around the interior, tripping over dead bodies and slipping in blood and cutting themselves on broken glass, all the while trying to avoid the still expanding hole in the floor. Jack's stamina was failing, and being without his sword in addition, he was starting to worry. He would hold off the Siuol for as long as he could, but he had been half-dead all day, and it was becoming plain that he might not make it to the next station.   
The Siuol grabbed him by the hair and bashed his head into an iron pole. Jack felt as if someone had poured black ink over his eyes. He felt around for a shard of broken glass, locating one and gouging his own hand in the process, and used it to slash the Siuol across the chest. The creature only grunted slightly. The glass fragment flew across the Siuol's skin once more; this time blood came running down his face into his eyes. Jack booted the creature violently, causing it to plunge to the floor with such great force that the car actually shook. 

The sudden jolt caused Rebecca's hand to slip. Though her fingers barely touched the ground for a fraction of a second, that was all it took. A terrible pain shot through her arm and suddenly her hand was covered in blood. It was only by some miracle that her fingers remained attached.   
With one hand terribly bruised and the other now practically ripped open, only an irrationally loyal fangirl such as herself would continue on a task so problematic and dangerous. 

Jack noticed an ice pick laying on the ground near the mangled Rikyg. He grabbed it and, using the Russian technique that had taken him a full year to master, threw it at the Siuol, hitting him in the left shoulder with such force that it dug into the creature's bone.   
Understandably upset, the Siuol leapt at Jack like a flying squirrel, tackling him to the floor. One of the Samurai's ribs cracked on impact.   
"You're worth as much dead as you are alive," said the Siuol, "As long as I have your body I still get the two googolplex."   
Jack simply lay there for a moment, trying to gather his strength. Even the prospect of being captured and delivered to Aku wasn't motivating him as well as it should have. His whole body felt numb from overexertion and multiple injuries. It took three tries at moving his arm before he managed to do so successfully.   
The Siuol screamed as Jack grabbed hold of the ice pick's handle protruding from his skin and began to pull it in a downward motion like he was putting a car from park into first gear. The bones in the Siuol's shoulder began to splinter. The Samurai finally managed not only to pull out the ice pick, but to pull it out sideways. Blood poured in abundance. 

Directly beneath them, Rebecca crept along like a sloth. She wasn't even halfway to her destination, and her muscles were already burning and aching at a level she had never imagined possible. She was not a strong woman, and groping around injured through the dark upside down had her traveling at a rate of about six inches per minute. She wanted so badly to let go, to rest for just one moment before continuing. But that would be suicide, and she knew it. Besides; Samurai Jack needed his sword. 

Jack felt nauseated from blood loss, stomach injury, the shaking of the car, the stench of blood, the odor of gasoline, head trauma and nerves. He was growing more exhausted by the second. To top it all off, he and Rebecca seemed to have hopped the slowest train in the entire Paris Metro. It had only been five minutes but it felt like five hours, and they were still only halfway to their destination.   
The Siuol spotted an abandoned firearm on the floor and swooped it up like a hawk, firing it almost immediately, not even bothering to take aim. Bullets erupted all around the Samurai.   
Jack, who was still lying on the ground, grabbed the base of the nearest seat and with all the force he could launched himself across the slippery floor. He skid out of the range of fire and crashed into the corpse of some blue and orange creature who's torso had earlier been inadvertently ventilated by the Uktuf. As the Siuol spun himself around to catch site of the Samurai once again, Jack picked up the ruined knife that Rebecca had used earlier. Holding it by the blade, he leapt to his feet and whacked the Siuol in the face with the hard plastic handle. More blood.   
The surprised creature had dropped the gun, quite startled by Jack's renewed energy. The truth was that Jack's body had become so numb that it was almost as if he had gotten a second wind. He could have his stomach cut open and stuffed with fire ants while drain cleaner was being poured into his eyes and he probably wouldn't be able to feel any of it.   
Despite his newly acquired desensitization, his gestures still reflected his weariness; as he tackled the Siuol to the floor, it looked more as if he had fainted onto the creature and knocked him down. They landed on top of the Ovurnyat's body.   
Just then the Acuwaereas, having recovered at last, jumped into the brawl.   
"Samurai Jack! Don't worry -- I'm here!" the little creature said just before chomping down on the Siuol's leg. The Siuol cried out in a mixture of English and his native tongue. Then he found his large purple head being smashed into the floor. For an instant everything went dark. As the world came back into focus, he saw the Samurai leaning over him.   
Thoughtlessly, the Siuol reached up with his good arm, grabbed Jack by the hair and flipped him over onto his back. Jack ended up lying on a piece of broken glass, but he couldn't feel it. The Siuol began to punch him in the face, trying at the same time to ignore the Acuwaereas gnawing at his leg like a rabid pitbull.   
Jack attempted to roll himself out from under the creature. Unfortunately, the Siuol just rolled along with him, and the two of them went tumbling across the floor of the car. When they stopped, they were right at the edge of the huge hole left by the Uktuf, whose corpse had apparently fallen through, leaving the final size at about four feet in diameter. Plenty of room to fall in.   
Still on his back, and now with his head dangling over the darkened tracks, Jack wished that he hadn't done anything, since it appeared he would have been better off. He stopped struggling. He decided that his next move would have to be planned very carefully in order to avoid worsening the situation further. As he lay thinking, the Siuol began to punch him again. 

After five minutes of groping through the dark under a moving subway train, Rebecca at last had the sword in her reach. All she had to do was untangle it from the wires in which it had been caught, and that would require the use of at least one of her hands. Her bloodied and mangled fingers released the pipe that they had been wrapped around, leaving her life hanging by the strength of one arm and her ankles.   
She began to untangle the weapon with great care, as if she were unraveling a silkworm's cocoon. The blade was dragging across the tracks, causing sparks to fly in her face. If she got to sleep with Jack after this, it would all be worth it. 

Jack continued in his recumbent posture, gusts of wind occasionally billowing up from the hole and blowing long strands of dark hair into his face. He was planning out more scenari than the Gelosi troupe. The Siuol drew back his fist, preparing to pound it into the Samurai's already bloodied skin once more, and was quite startled to find it caught by something. Before he could glance down to learn the cause, his wrist was broken.   
Jack was up again like lightning. He was gasping for air so fervently that it was almost comical. Just as he was about to chare himself in order to kick the Siuol inside the gaping hole, he suddenly found that he was standing in the dark. The lights had gone out. 

Beneath the floor of the car, Rebecca had ultimately gotten the sword released from its entanglement, but had also accidentally severed the wires. The train had gone over a large bump in the tracks, jarring her and nearly causing her to lose her grip. In that moment of panic she had yanked the sword free.   
Funny, she thought upon noticing the faint glow from inside the car disappear. You'd think the wires for that would be at the top.   
She threaded the 29-inch blade through her dress, freeing her hands so that she could better navigate her way through the complete darkness while lessening the chances of killing herself. 

As any good Italian actor will tell you, the scenario must always leave room for improvisation. Jack now realized the fault with his plan. It must have been that third crack over the head -- he was never this sloppy. Immersed in total darkness he was not even able see where the Siuol was, much less push him into the hole without risking his own safety.   
When he realized that the Siuol wore night-vision goggles, Jack very nearly began to weep.   
The first rule of the Budoshoshinshu was to always think of death. Jack was not finding it the least bit difficult under the circumstances. Another rule of the Budoshoshinshu: Loyalty includes longevity. He intended to keep going for as long as he was able. Standing in the dark, injured and swordless, would not make it an easy task, but then again, it never was. 

Rebecca decided to crawl ahead to the coupler rather than attempt to turn herself around so she could re-enter the car via the hole in the floor. It was a shorter distance to the coupler anyway. Then she could get back in through the emergency exit. No problem, assuming she survived.   
Fighting could be heard above. Something big was happening. 

It took a lot of getting used to, but after a while Jack was able to get a sense of where the Siuol was and of the movements it performed, even though he couldn't see it. Meanwhile the Siuol could see him in perfect green-hued clarity, like gazing through a polished emerald. He could also see the well-stocked arsenal of weapons lying on the floor. A moment was spent choosing one, and finally he decided on the Uktuf's old machine gun. He picked it up and aimed it.   
Jack heard the click of the trigger, followed almost instantly by the percussionistic blasts. He threw himself to the floor immediately, landing on something dry but squishy.   
"Oh, pardon me," said the Acuwaereas. "If I had known you were there I'd have moved."   
Jack didn't have time to chat with the little alien; he knew that the Siuol could still see him and that he had to keep moving. As he ran, he tripped over a corpse and fell again. The Siuol began to laugh.   
"Give it up, Samurai, there's nothing you can do."   
Jack didn't listen. A much weightier thought had crossed his mind: There was no sign of Rebecca anywhere. He couldn't hear her moving around, he hadn't heard her scream in quite a while. Was it possible that in all the commotion she had been killed? Could the body he had just tripped on be hers? He touched it. No, this wasn't Rebecca. Too large. Was she alright? There was one way to check.   
"Rebecca?" he called.   
More gunfire was his only answer. A bullet hit him in the long head of the left triceps brachii major and exited through the lateral head. He barely felt it. 

Rebecca yelped audibly as she reached for the next handhold and found that there wasn't anything there. Just smooth steel for the next three feet.   
She sighed. There was no chance that she could jump it; not at the speed she was going. There was a chance that she could hang in place till they reached the next station, which surely wouldn't be much longer now. But she was so tired: her whole body ached like the throat of a novice mezzo-soprano who had just screeched out the Queen of the Night's Vengeance Aria for the first time. What she really wanted to do was let go. The she realized that was the answer.   
Quickly she pulled the sword from her dress and pointed it forward, toward the coupler.   
"God I hope this works," she said. Then she let go. 

Jack hated this; he had more training, more discipline, more patience than the Siuol, but all it took was a stupid gun to render it all useless. By the moral code of the Samurai, it was considered very rude to fight with guns. It required virtually no skill and you didn't even have to get near your opponent; a downright vulgar choice of weapon. But as always, the morals of his world didn't necessarily apply to Aku's.   
The Samurai's eyes had adjusted to the dark now and he could make out the vaguest shapes. The Siuol was moving toward him and aiming the gun, doubtless preparing to fire again. The giant hole in the ground lay between them. The Acuwaereas stood to Jack's right. Surely something here could be used to his advantage.   
"Miss Small-Blue-Creature?" Jack called.   
"Yes?"   
The Siuol began to blast his gun at them, the miniature explosions visible in the darkness flickering like a silent movie. Jack and the little alien rushed to some ruined seats near the exit so they could hide.   
"Madam, forgive my asking," Jack continued, "But might you be able to attach yourself to that gentleman's head once more?"   
"Oh, certainly," she chirped. "With pleasure."   
At that the Acuwaereas went flying through the air, opening her mouth like a Dutch oven and snapping down at last on the Siuol's neck, his entire capitas within the confines of her mouth once again.   
Now that the Siuol had lost the advantage of sight, Jack began the next phase of his plan. He moved towards him, walking around the hole in the floor. The Siuol was spinning and flailing and thrashing and clawing at the little Acuwaereas, trying to pry her from his head.   
Jack stopped in front of the unseeing creature and took away the gun, tossing it out through one of the windows. Then he spoke to the Acuwaereas.   
"Thank you, Miss. You can release him now."   
The Acuwaereas opened her jaws.   
Through the night-vision goggles, the Siuol could see the interior of the little alien's mouth much more clearly than he particularly cared to. Then it began to open. The next thing he saw was a fist. Suddenly his lenses shattered. Next he felt himself tumbling backward from the force. He expected his body to make impact with the linoleum, but it did not occur. Then he realized why.   
"Nom Weid," he thought. The Samurai had pushed him into that giant hole. In desperation, the Siuol tried to reach out and grab something before he hit the tracks.   
In the car, Jack sank to his knees. The last bounty hunter was gone. He no longer had to force himself to keep fighting. All the pains of the past fifteen minutes hit him at once. The vile condition of the floor did not matter; he needed to lie down. He hoped that he might be able to get a few minutes of rest before they reached Pantin.   
Something that sounded like a scream came from outside. At first he assumed it was just part of the machinery. He heard it again. He tried to sit up but discovered that he was unable to do so.   
"What is that sound?" he asked, panting.   
"Would you like me to go look?" asked the Acuwaereas.   
Jack nodded, too exhausted to answer properly. The Acuwaereas was unable to discern this in the dark but she had assumed from the start that the answer would be yes. She walked towards the front of the car. 

CHAPTER 7

  
Rebecca screamed a third time as the Siuol, who was now attached to her leg, began climbing up her body. The only thing preventing them both from a painful dragging death across the tracks was the sword, plunged deeply into the side of the car. Rebecca's battered hands gripped the hilt desperately, the added weight of the Siuol's body increasing her strain.  
"Please, stop!" she cried. "You keep moving, it's making me slip. If I lose my grip, then we both die!"   
The Siuol paid no attention to her warning; he continued pulling himself along with his good arm.   
The Acuwaereas stuck the top half of her body out through the emergency exit. Funny thing was, none of this seemed strange anymore.   
"Pardon me," she said. "Is there some manner of problem here?"   
Rebecca screamed in response.   
"I shall take that as a yes," replied the Acuwaereas, who promptly returned to the interior of the train. "Oh, Mr. Samurai Jack," she said wandering through the dark, trying not to step on him. "I believe I have found the source of that noise. It appears to be that girl who was in here with you earlier. I took her for your wife--"   
"Rebecca!" Jack rose as quickly as he could, which under the circumstances was not very impressive. His head spun like the blades of a Cuisinart as he groped around blindly, trying to find his way out.   
"Do be careful!" cried the Acuwaereas as she watched his silhouette stumble toward the coupler. "One of those filthy bounty hunters appears to be hanging from her leg."   
With much difficulty, Jack reached the emergency exit and opened the door out to the coupler. He saw his sword jammed into the metal car. Odd, he thought. How did that get there? Looking at it for a while longer, he came to realize that Rebecca was hanging off of the hilt.   
This was bad. He was blacking out. He clutched at the fresh bullet wound in his arm as if he could stop up the blood and magically be rejuvenated. He stared at the scene before him, trying to concentrate on what was going on, and more urgently, on not passing out.   
"Jack!" Rebecca screamed, "Help me!"   
The Samurai moved toward her. It felt as if the world was going in slow motion. His balance was suddenly thrown off, and he had to hold out his arms to keep from falling from the coupler. He watched in horror as Rebecca's bloodied hands fell away from the sword. As he leapt after her, hoping to catch her, he suddenly realized that the train was no longer moving. They had finally reached Pantin station.   
Jack landed on his feet, though he was a bit too woozy to do so gracefully. The Siuol had by now released Rebecca, and she was standing between him and Samurai Jack. There was about 18 inches of space between the subway car and the wall. The platform was on the other side of the train.   
Seeing that 100 pounds of female flesh was all that stood between him and two googolplex, the Siuol hit Rebecca in the face, knocking her down. She easily caught herself in the small space before hitting the floor. She started to get up again, but the Siuol stopped this by cruelly stepping on her back. Rebecca screamed. There wasn't enough room for her to move positions, and with her right arm still on the coupler, the force of her torso being pushed down caused her shoulder to dislocate. Now the Siuol was actually standing on top of her. Under his weight she was unable to breathe.   
Jack was appalled by the scene, but there was little he could do. Even if there was room to fight, he was in such terrible shape that he wouldn't be capable. He tried to think of a solution, but several loud, rapid explosions pulled his attention elsewhere. The blood spraying all over his face didn't help either.   
The Siuol fell over, thirty 5.56x45mm bullets having passed through his skull. He died very quickly.   
Wow, Djinny thought. I actually hit something. She glanced downward at her gun and her smile vanished instantly.   
"How can I be out of goddamn bullets after three seconds?" she shrieked aloud.   
Samurai Jack observed the thin blue alien as she violently shoved an alternate STANAG cartridge which she had been hiding in the stuff on her head (hair would be entirely the wrong term) into the gun. He stumbled backward, concealing himself behind the car. He looked at the dead Siuol in front of him. Then he remembered Rebecca. Worried, he lunged forward. He found her pinned underneath the corpse. She was unable to get up.   
"Jack," she sobbed, "I think my arm is broken!"   
Another voice called to him from the left. "Hey! Samurai Jack! Your turn now!"   
Jack threw himself to the ground as Djinny opened fire again. She stopped the instant he disappeared from view; she did not have another magazine and didn't want to waste her bullets.   
Jack was now laying on top of the Siuol's body. Rebecca was underneath. The remains of bullets that had hit the concrete wall overhead rained down on them.   
"You must get up," Jack coaxed. "We cannot stay here."   
"I'm hurt," Rebecca cried. "I don't know if I can move."   
Jack was too tired to become annoyed. "Rebecca," he said softly, "I am injured as well. But we must begin moving or else it is only like to become worse." His heart began to speed up as he heard Djinny's stiletto sandals clicking in their direction. "Please get up! We must hurry!"   
"If we live through this, can we have sex?"   
"I will do whatever if you wish if you get up immediately!" Jack could barely believe what he was saying. Then again, it was a big if, and furthermore it worked. She forced herself to crawl out from under the Siuol. Jack began to lead the way. He was injured far worse than Rebecca, and his limp showed it.   
Djinny was about to jump from the platform onto the train's coupler when she heard the labored shuffling of two bodies behind the car. They were trying to escape. Figuring they intended to come around to the platform, she decided that instead of chasing after them she would wait till they came to her. She began walking toward the front end of the train, trying her best to soften the clacking of her shoes. She had taken about three steps when a small voice came from behind her.   
"Pardon me, miss? I was just wondering something."   
Djinny turned angrily and found an Acuwaereas staring back at her. God, she hated 'wareys.  
"I am just slightly confused," the little turquoise creature continued. "A moment ago I happened to see you get rid of that dreadful bounty hunter who was troubling Mr. Samurai Jack. Quite logically I presumed then that you were on our side. However, Mr. Samurai Jack's reaction to seeing you was less than sparkling, and so I was wondering--"   
There was a sound like somebody blowing a very loud raspberry. The Acuwaereas was blasted into a quivering mound of blue jelly by eight rounds from Djinny's gun. With that taken care of, she returned to the task at hand.   
Just as expected, Jack and Rebecca had come around to the platform, just in time to witness the demise of the little alien who had helped them. Jack was hoping that Djinny would have followed them behind the train and given chase. Now not only was Djinny standing right in front of them with her assault rifle, but she had killed a perfectly innocent bystander. Jack was too weak to get angry. He was really too weak to even think straight, and he knew it.   
Djinny raised her gun toward him. "I can kill you now, or I can let Aku do it later. The only reason I ask is I think he'd appreciate doing it himself, but I'll let you decide. Don't move or I'll fire."   
Neither Jack nor Rebecca made any effort to move.   
"Good," Djinny said, moving closer to them. "In that case I'm going to take you with me to a phone booth. I got some calls to make. Once Aku sends someone over with the two googolplex--"   
Rebecca snickered bitterly. "God, Djinny. You are so naive."   
Djinny moved closer, not lowering her gun. "What'd you say?" She was now standing directly in front of Rebecca, the barrel only a few inches from her chest.   
"There is no way Aku is going to pay you two googolplex if you capture Samurai Jack," Rebecca murmured. There was a slightly amused tone to her voice. It annoyed Djinny even further.   
"Damn straight he will! It would be pretty stupid of him not to."   
"Djinny, you said before that two googolplex is two with a googol zeros after it. There is no way Aku has that much money. There is no way that anyone has that much money. If you took all the molecules in the entire universe and counted them there would not be that many."  
"So? Nobody uses real money anymore! He'll probably just give me a credit card or something. He's Aku: If he says there's two googolplex on the card, everybody else better respect that. And how the hell do you know how many molecules are in the universe? You can't even do math."   
"My husband told me. But that doesn't matter! Think. Why would Aku give you more money than even he has?"   
"Well, Rebecca. If Aku's offering a bounty that high for Samurai Jack then obviously he can't capture the man by himself, and Aku's supposedly the most powerful thing in the entire universe. If Samurai Jack's a threat, then that would make him even more powerful than Aku. And if I can catch Samurai Jack, then I am more powerful than both of them. So Aku had better do something to keep me on his side. He's just evil, not stupid."   
"He's just offering that bounty so people will capture Jack for him! He doesn't really have that much money!"   
Djinny seethed. There's nothing worse than debating with someone who conveniently ignores every point you just made. Except maybe being punched in the stomach. The force of Jack's fist toppled her thin, precarious frame easily.   
It had taken the Samurai nearly a full minute to work up the energy for that blow. He could not keep this up much longer. He and Rebecca needed either to escape from Djinny or kill her. He chose what was looking like the more practical option and reached for his sword. It wasn't there. He suddenly realized that it was still in the side of the train.   
Rebecca seemed to read his mind and began limping off toward the car where she had left it. Meanwhile, Djinny tried to maneuver her sixty pound frame into an upright position without releasing her eight pound gun. Her extra set of arms proved gainful, and this sort of thing was precisely why evolution had provided them to her species.   
What evolution had not taken into account were stiletto heels and a long trailing skirt. As she rose, the stake-like heel of her left shoe landed on the gold fabric near her hem. She was a bit more than halfway up when it suddenly seemed as if she was being jerked downward at the hip. She collapsed once again.   
As Djinny groveled on the floor, trying to untangle herself still without releasing the gun, Rebecca located Jack's katana and was faced with the daunting task of pulling it out again. Her right arm and hand were dislocated while her left was torn and mangled. She flexed her injured fingers, flinching at the pain.   
Jack couldn't decide what to do. He was useless; he could barely move and it felt as if his brain had been turned into soup. He glanced down at Djinny wriggling about on the concrete. Her attention seemed focused on her own little problem.   
It was debatable as to whether or not his next action was intentional. He did not so much leap on top of Djinny as collapse onto her. Either way, it was effective: despite the massive amount of blood he had lost he still outweighed the alien.   
Some whimpers and grunts could be heard echoing around Pantin's near-empty platform. Then there was a sound like metal scraping against metal as Rebecca yanked the sword free from the side of the subway car. Tears streamed down her face. It felt as if someone had broken her arms then tied them into knots and impaled them on flaming skewers. Now that she had the magic weapon in her grip, she stumbled like a drunk back to where she had left the Samurai.   
This occurred as Djinny kicked and squirmed in a frantic effort to get out from under Samurai Jack. She had begun yelling insults at him but she somewhat doubted that the man was even conscious at this point. It seemed like he should be easy to fight off, but the trouble was that he was nothing but dead weight pinning her to the floor. She had to think of some way to make him move. She considered shooting him in the hope that the pain might cause him to squirm off, but her gun was too large and she couldn't turn it at enough of an angle to hit him. Another idea struck. She lifted the gun as high as she could then swiftly brought it down across his back. Maybe a sound beating would inspire him to move.   
Jack grimaced as a sensation like his lungs were being jolted passed over him. His back stung from the blow. Djinny brought the huge assault rifle down on him again, the metal scraping his skin. His thoughts were fuzzy, but it wasn't hard to tell what she was trying to do.   
Jack admittedly found the situation rather amusing. Djinny was wasting her energy; even if he intended to move he was no longer able. Still, it dawned on him that he could not stay like that forever. He had to get up sometime, and when he did, he had to be sure that Djinny would pose no further problems. Other than the fact that she had not been fighting continuously for the last half-hour while severely injured, she had a huge advantage due to that equally huge firearm.   
No sooner had Jack thought the term than he heard it go off. Rebecca had been standing a few feet behind Djinny, trying to decide what she should do with the sword when the blue alien had spotted her and began firing in her direction. Though Djinny had not been able to take careful aim, with twenty bullets she was bound to hit something. It happened to be Rebecca's ankle. A splatter of blood shaped like a Japanese folding-fan became visible on the concrete. Rebecca collapsed, screaming.   
A crowd began to gather around to watch the scene. Not one of the three recumbent figures was able to do anything about it. 

***

Djinny, Rebecca and Samurai Jack had remained motionless on the platform for twenty minutes. Djinny had given up on trying to make Jack move. Rebecca was now sitting in a fair sized puddle of blood and looking pale. Jack was doing everything in his power not to pass out, but nonetheless kept shifting in and out of reality. Clusters of humans, aliens and robots stared down at them in awe, not one of them daring to offer assistance. Nobody spoke. Several people even tried to hold their breath.   
At last a voice rang through the room. "This is fucking stupid," said Djinny. "Are we going to stay like this forever?" She raised her head slightly to get a better look at the Samurai who was still on top of her. "Hey! Jack! You realize you're still bleeding? At this rate you're going to die either way. Let me just shoot you and get it over with. Some of us got lives to be getting on with."   
Though Jack made no response, something in those words caused Rebecca to experience an epiphany. She suddenly turned her head toward the crowd and called out.   
"Does anyone here have a cellular phone?"   
There was a silence. A chubby pink alien finally came forward.   
"I got one."   
"May I borrow it? It's important."   
The pink alien dug through her purse for a moment till she at last retrieved a shiny gold-colored phone. Rebecca had trouble holding it due to her injuries. Using the thumb of her right hand, she dialed the number. 

In the Technical Support Center of AkuComp, Donald DuMont was notified of a personal call. He left his station and went to answer it.   
"Hello?" he asked, raising the phone to his ear.   
"Donald?"   
He recognized the voice as his wife's. From the tone it sounded like she was in trouble for the ninth time that month.   
"Rebecca? What's going on?"   
"It's terrible!" she cried. "My friend Djinny's trying to kill us!"   
"'Us?' Who are you with?"   
"Samurai Jack. I met him yesterday. We're both injured, we've both been shot!"   
"Okay, okay, calm down. Where are you?"   
"Pantin Station, on the platform."   
"Is Djinny there?"   
"Yes. She has a gun. Jack's got her now, but he doesn't look too good..."   
"Okay. I'll call my friends from the RPG. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Can you wait that long?"   
"I think so."   
"We'll try to hurry," he added before hanging up. 

CHAPTER 8

  
Jack felt as if his body had liquefied. His nerves and muscles failed him. Even his mind seemed to be halfway to its next incarnation. The world around him looked like a dream: The concrete platform and the tile walls kept transforming into a seascape and macabre figures gathered around him. Strange shapes seemed to appear and disappear. The Saxon army marched toward him.   
When one of the soldiers came up and actually lifted him off of Djinny's body, he realized with considerable shock that that part was no dream. Harold Godwinson stepped through the crowd.   
"Rebecca?" he called.   
"Donald!" she screamed back. The Saxon King ran toward her.   
Djinny kicked and yelled as three overweight men dressed in identical off-the-shelf mail shirts attempted to wrestle her gun away. At one point she succeeded in taking back her weapon only to find, much to her horror, that her last bullet had been embedded in Rebecca's ankle. A fellow dressed more on par with the 100 Years War than the Battle of Hastings took it upon himself to draw his pseudo-replica sword and rid Djinny of all four trouble-making arms. The lovely blue alien began to scream and swear angrily; she was going to look like such a freak for the next few months while she waited for her arms to grow back.  
Tired, pained, and yet knowing that help had arrived, Jack let the ocean and clouds overwhelm him. Two startled geeks dragged the unconscious Samurai over to their DM.   
"Hey, Donald? He's not looking too good. What should we do?"   
Rebecca began to scream."We've been injured! Someone needs to find Gabriel!"   
Donald DuMont knew that his wife was completely crazy and inclined to get herself into all kinds of strange messes. He had known it when he married her, and he knew that there was no use in scolding her or becoming angry over it. All he could do was help her out the best he could.   
"Where would he be?" Donald asked calmly.   
"I don't know what day it is..."   
"It's Tuesday, honey, and it's almost four in the afternoon."   
Rebecca closed her eyes, wishing she could faint and not have to feel the aches in her joints any longer. "He's probably at My Life In Pink. It's on Avenue Foch. He'll be using his stage-name..."   
Donald picked out one of his friends and assigned him the job of finding Gabriel, then he motioned the rest of his army along to help in escorting the lovely Rebecca and the famous Samurai Jack out to the red Peugeot. As the two injured were being helped into the car, a group of roughly five girls approached. One girl dressed in a purple kimono ran over to Donald.   
"Excuse me," she said, "Is that Samurai Jack?"   
"I believe so," said Donald.   
There were giggles and gasps of excitement from the girls.   
"Can we talk to him?"   
Donald glanced at the Samurai. His face was covered in dried blood, beneath which one could just make out morbidly pale skin marred by bruises. Donald turned back to the fangirls.   
"I don't think that he's feeling very well. Sorry."   
The girls gasped.   
"Is he hurt?"   
"It looks like it."   
"Where are you taking him?"   
"To my apartment. I know a man with some medical training."   
"Can we come with you?"   
Donald thought it over. It sounded harmless enough. "You'll have to take another car, there's no more room in this one. But sure."   
The girls giggled and nodded happily in response, then went scampering off to their own vehicles. With that Donald, Rebecca, Jack, twelve pseudo-knights and five fangirls began their journey across Paris. 

Jack was herded off to the guest room while the rest of the group went about collecting first aid supplies for the warrior. Even Rebecca, despite her own injuries, stumbled and limped about the kitchen, bleeding all over the floor while she filled small plastic bags with ice, Gabriel's instructions from the previous night still fresh in her mind. One of the geeks, dressed in an exact replica of the armor worn in Albrecht Dürer's _Knight, Death and Devil_, began consulting his handheld computer for more information on the emergency treatment of gunshot victims. A young fangirl named Alba was given the task of guarding Jack's sword.   
The Samurai was completely out by the time Gabriel arrived which was probably a good thing, for the sight of his doctor clad in gold sequins and pink feathers like some sort of obscene peacock would doubtless have caused him undue distress. Gabriel himself felt slightly uncomfortable but he mentally chided himself for this. He had to pay for medical school somehow, and a female impersonator was a perfectly respectable job in Paris.   
The geeks and fangirls watched anxiously as the drag-queen examined their beloved Samurai Jack. After a short time Gabriel began listing medical items he required and where they could be found. A few of the observers rushed out to get them.   
An hour later the Samurai was in stable condition and resting peacefully. Gabriel had pumped him full of sedatives just to be safe; he was going to see to it that Jack got plenty of rest and obtained no further injuries during the next few days.   
When Rebecca asked to be examined, Gabriel refused, telling her that there was no reason she should be unable to go to a hospital and get treated by qualified doctors.   
"But I can't drive in this condition, and I don't want to leave all these people alone in the house," she protested. In truth she just didn't want to be separated from Jack.   
"I'll drive you," Gabriel answered, "And Donald can stay here."   
Rebecca pouted slightly as there was no good argument against that. One of the Saxon-warriors helped Gabriel carry her out to her car. 

***

Jack dreamt that he was relaxing by a silent waterfall. Blossoming fruit-trees grew all around. The sky above him was a deep purple-blue and the moon shone so brightly that everything might as well have been lit by the sun. All the constellations were clearly visible. The water was warm, and a steam rose from the pond at the base of the fall.   
Next thing he knew, the waterfall had dissolved into a door and the moon into a lamp next to his bed. Startled by the unfamiliar room, he quickly leapt up. Doing so, he felt a dull ache in his arms, leg and sides. He noticed the bandages, and suddenly it all came back to him. He was probably in Rebecca's apartment.   
His sandals were arranged near the bed. Not bothering to put them on he opened up the door. Without a doubt it was Rebecca's apartment. Nobody else had such a uniformly disturbing style of decor. He took another step forward and accidentally kicked something with his right foot. He looked down to find a teenage girl curled up on the floor. She had been asleep until the rude awakening.   
"I am sorry. I did not see you lying there."   
The girl gasped, a most blissful expression across her face. Then she cried out. "Everybody! He's awake!"   
All of a sudden girls of various ages and races began flooding into his view. It seemed impossible for so many to have been concealed in the tiny apartment. "Samurai Jack! Samurai Jack!" they chanted with the gusto of a Hare Krishna. "You're awake! You're okay!"   
Clad only in bandages and a bloodstained fundoshi, Jack stood in the doorway, staring bewildered at the scene before him. He wondered if he was still dreaming. 

CHAPTER 9

  
Rebecca pushed her way through the crowd. She was on crutches. She had been roused from sleep, and Jack was surprised by how much smaller her head looked when she was without hairspray.   
"Jack," she said, her smile lighting up the whole building. "Thank God you're okay. You've been out for almost four days. Only I think part of that's Gabriel's fault though, he had tranquilizers and things... are you feeling alright?"   
Jack paused, trying to figure out the honest response to the question. "I am feeling much better. Thank you."   
The fangirls began to giggle excitedly. It reminded Jack of the sound monkeys make right before they attack.   
Noticing the confused look on his face, Rebecca began to explain the situation. "These are some other fangirls. A few of them came along when we were leaving the Metro, and then they started inviting their friends. It's been like a big party here all week."   
"Some party," said one yellow-hued almost humanoid creature. "If only Rebecca had something to listen to besides Disco!"   
Rebecca snapped back: "It's that or Donald's Mongolian throat singing music."   
Jack smiled slightly. "I actually enjoy Mongolian throat singing."   
Everyone fell silent. The only noise was that of the two girls running to put in the CD. The eerie sound of throat singing accented by synthesizers seeped into the room.   
Jack glanced over the crowd, toward Rebecca's front window. It had been replaced in the time since he had last seen it, when he had jumped through it to escape the francophone bounty hunters. It was dark outside, and very few cars were passing by.   
"What hour is this?" he asked.   
"It's just after four AM," one girl answered quickly.   
"We should cook breakfast," quod another. "Samurai Jack: what do you want for breakfast?"   
For the first time Jack realized that he was starving. He tried to think of any food in particular that appealed to him. He had not thought for very long when one of the fangirls screamed out:   
"Sushi! We can make him sushi!"   
Jack smiled; that actually did sound very appealing. The girls noticed his smile and all melted in unison. Making him happy was like opium to them.   
"Does anybody know how to make sushi?" Rebecca asked in a rare exhibition of common sense.   
"I do!" chimed one fangirl who wore a T-shirt emblazoned with Jack's image. "It always comes out all screwed up, though. But I can try."   
"I know a place we can buy sushi," another girl offered. "It's 24 hour. They stop delivering at midnight, so we'd have to go out and get it."   
The girls began to bounce and scream, undulating like waves during a storm. Jack feared he would be crushed by a tsunami.   
"Come on, Samurai Jack! Let's go get sushi!"   
Rebecca again had to calm them down. "Wait a minute, wait a minute! I've got an idea. How about five of you go out and get sushi for everybody. Then, while you're out, Jack here can have some time to himself. I imagine he'd like to wash off that five day old blood. While he's in the shower, the rest of us can try to find some clothes for him. Does that sound good?"   
The fangirls murmured in agreement. Jack sighed in relief at the prospect of being away from them for a short while.   
Rebecca turned to him. "The bathroom is right over there." She tried to point but with both of her hands bandaged and splinted all she could do was gesture vaguely. "I assume you know how the faucets work?"   
Jack nodded his head and slunk off into the bathroom. It was only due to his speed when he shut and locked the door that the fangirls did not follow him in. 

Alone at last, Jack stripped off the bandages stuck to his body, getting a look for the first time at the ugly holes the bullets had left in him. Still, he appeared to be healing nicely, and from the looks of things somebody-- probably Gabriel-- had stitched up a few of them. When Jack removed his fundoshi it was so saturated with dried blood that it made a hollow clunking noise as he tossed it to the ground.   
Accustomed to cold showers and convinced that they were healthier, Jack spent twelve minutes under the freezing jets. He did not get to shower often, and he washed away three weeks worth of grime with a wet hand-towel. He did not like to use soap.   
As the Samurai stepped out he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and noticed that his face was covered in half-healed bruises. He hated to think how he must have looked a few days prior. He self-consciously began to wonder if the fangirls had noticed. Then another thought crossed his mind: Rebecca. He had promised some sort of conjugal relations to her. An indescribable panic took hold of him.   
Just then there was a knock on the door.   
"Jack?" Rebecca called. "Are you finished?"   
"I am," he answered slowly.   
"We've got some clothes for you. If you'll just crack open the door I'll pass them in."   
At first he wondered if it was just a trick so that she would be able to see him nude, but then he realized Rebecca had no reason for it; she had gotten a promise of sex out of him.   
He cracked the door as asked, and Rebecca passed in a 10-foot long strip of white fabric: a new fundoshi. He closed the door and spent the next several minutes draping the garment. He looked in the mirror once more and realized that his hairstick had been broken back at the Metro. He would have to search for a new one along with a new gi.   
The Samurai at last opened the door and to his surprise found Rebecca and the others standing before him, holding a fresh white gi, an obi, and a small black hairstick. They giggled excitedly seeing the expression on his face.   
"Remember the second-hand store I was coming out of when we met? It's so stupid, but like two seconds before that I had seen this white kimono thing over with the used costumes. I guess I was so startled when I saw you on the sidewalk and you asked for a tailor that I didn't think of it. Anyway, here you go."   
Jack took the garment and immediately put it on. It smelled exactly like a second-hand store but he didn't care. Once he tied on the obi he looked elegant and dashing as ever.   
A chubby girl who didn't look as if she could be a day over thirteen presented him the hairstick.   
"It used to be mine," she said proudly.   
Jack thanked her and twisted his damp hair into a chonmage, then forced the stick through it. Except for the bruises he was starting to look like his old self again.   
"He needs his sword," cried a young Uktuf girl.   
Alba, the girl who had diligently taken charge of the precious katana for the past few days returned the sword to its owner.   
It was then that the missing five fangirls returned with enough sushi to feed the entire Heian dynasty. Everybody sat on the floor and gorged themselves on kani, unagi and cucumber rolls till the room was aglow with rose-hued sunlight. 

***

After the fifteenth repeat even Jack grew weary of the Mongolian throat singing. The disc had been replaced and now the sound of a heavy bass and thin, reedy violins eclipsed by men singing in falsetto infected the room.   
Jack stood by the window, the white morning light reflecting off of his robes and giving him the appearance of a divine apparition. The fangirls gushed over him, in more ways than one. They were practically leaving slug trails on the carpet. The Samurai frowned. He would have left if he could, but he was still not in prime condition, and he had learned his lesson about trying to fight while still recovering from major injuries. In addition, he was told that Gabriel would be stopping by later in the day, and Jack felt obliged to thank the man for all of his help.   
Donald ran through the livingroom, trying not to disturb the colony of fangirls as he made his way to the door. He smiled briefly at Jack. Jack turned away, ashamed. The man seemed to have no idea what his wife had been up to.   
Several hours passed. The fangirls remained, the Disco continued to play. Jack began to contemplate the art deco-style sculptures of himself. After a long while, some of the fangirls worked up the nerve to actually talk to him. They began to chat about the world before Aku, Shinto Buddhism, and Jack's favorite ice cream.   
At precisely 3:45 PM a very tall, muscular woman dressed in a grey cape and a matching turban entered the apartment. It took Jack a long time to recognize that it was Gabriel.   
"Hey," the drag-queen doctor said softly, shutting the door behind himself. "I can't stay long, I'm on my way to work. I've got a matinee. I guess the Samurai is feeling better."   
Jack was confused. He thought he had learned the difference between masculine and feminine garb in Aku's cities, but apparently there was some form of etiquette to it that he still did not comprehend.   
Gabriel noticed his confusion. "I know, I know, I'm dressed like a girl. It's for work. I have a performance in forty minutes."   
The Samurai was enlightened. Now it made sense: Gabriel must be a Kabuki actor, playing the female roles. It even explained the grotesque makeup. His mind settled and he happily succumbed to the brief medical examination.   
Gabriel, in a desperate effort to sound as if he knew what he was doing, told Jack to get lots of rest, drink plenty of liquids (as if he planned to take his drinks in gaseous form), apply antiseptic ointment to his wounds and avoid stress. The writers in Hollywood always seemed to get away with it, and Gabriel met with equal success. He also gave the Samurai a tube of topical cream to help prevent the injuries from scarring. Cosmetic surgery was, afterall, his forte. 

Three more days passed before the Samurai felt he was in reasonable shape again. In that time, the fangirls had grown increasingly bolder. By early afternoon he had spent most of the past five hours fending off insulting and indiscrete questions about his sex life. To make matters worse, it brought to his mind once more the promise he had made to Rebecca. He would have to fulfil it before he left; honor dictated it.   
Rebecca had, surprisingly, not mentioned it since the Metro. Of course it was understandable: they had not had much time alone. The fangirls swarmed about him constantly, like hornets whose nest had been disturbed. It seemed nothing short of Baygon would get rid of them.   
Finally seized with a plan, Jack began showing off his sword. Once all the fangirls were interested he excused himself, leaving the weapon behind for the girls to distract themselves. The Samurai crossed over to the kitchen, where Rebecca stood at the counter snacking on deli meat and browsing a lingerie catalogue. Under the pretext of being thirsty, Jack went over to the sink so that he was standing right next to her. His hands trembled slightly as he filled the glass, trying to figure out how to go about beginning the conversation. Rebecca looked up at him and smiled. Jack's stomach unclenched.   
"Rebecca..." he said quietly so as not to be heard by the others, "There is a matter I have been meaning to discuss with you."   
He had hoped she would speak, but she just stared at him expectantly. Suddenly Jack realized his cup was overflowing. He shut off the faucet.   
"I wish to discuss what I said at the train station."   
"You mean the Metro?" Rebecca asked plainly.   
"Yes," Jack said impatiently. "The Metro." He paused again. "I believe I made a promise to you... I was curious as to when... or how..."   
Rebecca started to laugh. "Don't worry about it. Just tell me when you want to do it."   
"But the others are always here..."   
"Don't worry, I know how to get rid of them. It's all figured out. Just tell me when."   
Jack took a deep breath. "Let it be tonight. I feel I should leave this place soon and begin my quest once more."   
"Tonight it is, then."   
Jack sighed, then took a sip of the water he had poured. He got an idea.   
"Have you any _sake_?"   
Rebecca seemed surprised at the question. "I don't, but I can get some."   
"Please do. I am going to need it." 

A few more hours passed, and it grew dark outside. Donald returned home from work, and upon seeing him Jack's nerves turned to gelatin. Noticing his unease, his unusual pallor and the fact that he seemed to be sweating, the fangirls began prodding him for information in the hope that they'd be able to help. Jack gave exceptionally vague answers. His conscience was already shredding away at him and he didn't need to make it worse by telling lies.   
At last Rebecca returned from the grocery, looking awkward with the bag in one hand and her crutch in the other. The curious fangirls began asking what she had bought.   
"Eggs, milk; the usual. I got some rice wine," she added, winking at Jack. His heart began to pound.   
"Do we get any?" asked one extra-terrestrial fangirl.   
"No," Rebecca answered, "But I do have something else for you." She turned herself to face her bedroom. "Donald?" she called, "Can you come out here?"   
Donald emerged. Rebecca pointed over to the front door.   
"Could you stand over there?" she asked.   
Somewhat confused, Donald did as she requested. Rebecca scurried off into the bedroom, returning a moment later carrying something. It was Jack's old fundoshi.   
"Okay, girls," Rebecca said, raising the bloodied fabric over her head. "You remember that our Samurai was wearing this when we brought him over here." The fangirls oohed. "Whoever can grab it can have it. Heads up, Donald!"   
She tossed the wadded up fundoshi at her husband, who caught it, baffled.   
"Now run, Donald!"   
Suddenly Donald realized that the herd of fangirls were descending upon him. Fearing for his life, he threw open the door and began to run as fast as he could down the hall. God, Rebecca was weird.   
Samurai Jack and Rebecca DuMont watched as the girls all filtered out the door, screaming and running in hot pursuit of the holy relic. Once the last girl was gone, Rebecca closed off and locked the apartment.   
"Donald can run pretty fast," she said, "They'll be chasing him for a while."   
Jack tried to smile, but he couldn't do it. Rebecca placed herself on the couch next to him.   
"Shall we go into the bedroom?" she asked.   
"The _sake_," Jack said quickly. He hardly ever drank alcohol: it dulled the wits, which was normally not a desirable effect. Affectionless coerced adulterous sex was the big exception.   
"Oh, right. Of course. I'm afraid I don't know how to heat it up..."   
"Do not bother," Jack croaked.   
Rebecca went into the kitchen, her crutch tapping along the linoleum. Several bones in her ankle had been shattered by the bullet that had hit her, and it would be a long time before she recovered the ability to walk unassisted. She returned to the sofa along with the bottle of cheap rice wine.   
"I know it's usually served in those little cups, which I don't have. I have champagne glasses, mugs, normal cups...."   
"Whatever you prefer," said Jack. He was ready to chug down the bottle.   
Rebecca rose once more and hobbled over to the kitchen, returning shortly with two champagne flutes.   
"Shall we drink it here, or in the bedroom?"   
Jack's heart began to sink. Neither option provided any significant advantage. "Whatever you prefer," he said.   
"Let's go into the bedroom," Rebecca said with a seductive grin. "You don't mind carrying the bottle, do you?"   
Wordlessly, Jack took the bottle from the coffee-table and followed her into the master bedroom. As he approached the bed he was reminded of all the Samurai before him who had likewise approached a tatami mat in preparation for committing seppuku. He felt like he should stop and write a waka. At least it would buy him more time.   
Rebecca sat down on the bed and smiled up at him. She was very pretty. Stonefaced, Jack seated himself next to her. He tried not to gag at the stench of her hairspray.   
Rebecca leaned over and wrapped her arms around him. She could feel him cringe. Suddenly she realized the problem and pulled away.   
"You really don't want to do this, do you?"   
The Samurai's heart rate suddenly dropped back to a normal pace. He didn't want to seem rude or embarrass the girl, and he tried to search for the proper words to answer.   
Rebecca could read it all on his face. She began to laugh. Jack was dumbstruck. When she seemed to have gained control of herself once more she spoke to him.   
"You remember at the Metro that you promised you would do whatever I wanted?"   
Jack began to tense. "Yes. That is what I said."   
Rebecca smiled at him, a look of compassion and grace. She kissed him on the cheek.   
"I want you to go out and use all that surplus chai or whatever you have to defeat Aku. I never want to buy another product with his face on it again."   
Jack exhaled deeply. He felt like he had just been thrown from a 1000 foot cliff only to land on a ledge five feet down; prepared for the fatal moment, only to find it never comes. He began to laugh uncontrollably, a low-pitched cackle. Rebecca joined him with her own passive giggle. They sat there for several long moments.   
"Thank you," was all he could say, meaning it as sincerely as ever.   
"Almost everything is Aku brand, and it's really annoying. Even that damn rice wine is Aku brand. You must put a stop to this. Go out, kill him, or escape to the past and uncreate him or whatever else it takes. That's what I want."   
Jack looked at Rebecca, smiling. He hadn't been this happy in days. He threw his arms around her, pulled her close, and kissed her. It seemed like the right thing to do.   
He rose from the bed as Rebecca smiled a two googolplex smile. "I thank you for your hospitality, and your kindness to me," he said. "I have enjoyed my stay with you immensely, but I fear that the time has come for me to leave."   
Rebecca took up her crutch. "I'll show you to the door."

  



End file.
